The Grandfather Paradox
by sparra-music
Summary: What would happen if SG-1 was not only thrown back in time, but also ended up in Nazi Germany during WW2?  They'd meet up with Hogan's Heroes, of course, and HAVE to help them out a bit... b/c they already have!
1. Arrival

_**The Grandfather Paradox**_

_**Chapter 1: Arrival**_

There was a bright flash of light and suddenly four bodies hit the ground in an unconscious heap. Luckily, their green camouflage uniforms kept them from being easily seen in the forest's undergrowth. Minutes after their arrival, a German patrol looking for the source of the flash passed within thirty feet of them without noticing them.

Nearly half an hour later, one of the figures started to wake. His soft groan woke the others. They sat up, rubbing heads and shoulders and checking gear. Glaring, the leader, who had been first to awaken, spat out, "Carter, what the hell happened there?"

"I'm not sure, sir. I think they knocked us out and dumped us somewhere."

"No, really?" replied O'Neill at the same time that Teal'c said, "Indeed."

"Guys? Doesn't this scenery look like Earth to you?" broke in Daniel, who had been looking around. "The planet we gated to- at least the bit by the gate- looked distinctly alien. Orange sky, purplish trees, pink grass... This place... uh... doesn't."

"Daniel, don't you know yet that it's _my_ job to state the obvious?" replied Jack with annoyance.

"You asked, Jack."

"Asked what?"

"What happened."

"Whaddaya mean, 'what happened?'"

"I didn't ask what happened." Daniel frowned. "I was answering your question, that you asked what happened."

"What?"

"You asked what happened, I answered, you made a smart remark, I answered, you asked a stupid question, I answered, you ask-"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!" Jack interrupted, throwing his hands in the air. "Will you please just get to the point, Daniel?"

"I think it looks like those aliens brought us back to Earth. Now we just have to figure out where we are and phone Hammond to pick us up. Judging by the constellations, we're in the northern hemisphere- man, look at how bright those stars are!- and judging by the trees, I'd say we're smack in the middle of Europe. Germany, maybe."

"Hmph." The colonel shook his head. It never ceased to amaze him how Daniel could look at something like stars and trees and come up with 'We're in Germany'. Of course, he was equally amazed by Carter's scientific abilities, which sometimes seemed to do the same thing, only with different clues.

"Interesting, but did any of you notice anomalies in the wormhole before we reached P4Z-232?" Sam cut in.

"Like?" Jack asked.

"You mean the colors?" asked Daniel.

"The yellow and orange flashes, yes. For a few seconds, I thought we were on another trip back in time. Any theories on what else could have happened?"

"Uh, I hate to be the party pooper, but is it possible that we could have gated through a sun again?" Jack queried. "And that's the reason the aliens knocked us out first, asked questions never, flew us home, and dumped us a few thousand miles from the Stargate?"

"No, we reset the dialing computer to make sure that wouldn't happen again. Actually, it brought up an error warning the first time, we just ignored it in that instance."

"O'Neill. I believe a party approaches from that direction," interrupted Teal'c, pointing quickly. "Should we not take cover and observe them?"

The colonel nodded and his team hid within seconds.

As they watched, a group of commandoes dressed in black passed them, two of them arguing in whispers.

"I still say you're balmy, mate. Fish soup is nothin' next to a nice hot plate of fish an' chips! 'Specially when a body's comin' in from a night like this!" said a tall man with a cockney accent.

"And how would you know?" replied LeBeau. "You refused to even try it, despite the trouble that I went through to get Klink to import the fish!"

"And a bloody worthless idea 'at was, mate! If you 'ad to cook a fancy dinner for Klink an' 'ad enough time to import the ingredients from another country, why didn' you get something good?"

Hearing the men speaking in English as they passed, Colonel Jack O'Neill signaled silently to _his_ team to follow them as the argument continued.

"Mon Dieu! I did get something good! Just because you have worse taste than the Boche-"

"I noticed they didn't eat much of it either. Must 'ave just taken one look at all those bony fishes lined up down the middle of the table an' thought, 'Ere now, per'aps I best stick to these little floating croutons with the yellow sauce on 'em.'"

"Ooh, you uncivilized Anglais!" LeBeau was getting so worked up that he was starting to slip back into French. "Everyone knows la bouillabaisse classique doit comporter les 'trois poissons': rascasse, grondin, et congre!" (1)

"Quiet, you two! Do you want to get us caught?" the black man who had been leading the way hissed back at them.

"Yeah, you two are fighting so much I bet the colonel can hear you all the way back in camp!" piped up the slim man at the rear of the team.

"An' who ruddy asked you, Carter?" Newkirk looked back over his shoulder to chide his friend Andrew. Unfortunately, he glanced back at the same time Major Samantha Carter darted from one tree to the next, and caught a glimpse of her. "'Old up! There's somebody followin' us!" he nearly shouted as he wheeled around and drew his pistol. His companions also turned and drew their weapons.

"_Wer sind sie? __Kommen sie hier jetzt! Schnell!"_ Newkirk said loudly. (2)

_I guess that confirms Daniel's theory that we're in Germany,_ thought Jack as he stepped out from behind the tree. He rested his hands lightly on his P-90 without picking it up. "No need to get antsy, fellas. Pretty sure we're all on the same team, here."

"You're Americans?" Andrew Carter sounded incredulous. "You don't look like downed pilots. And what kind of gun is that?"

"Uh..." Jack looked at Sam uncertainly. _They're dressed like commandoes, but what kind of soldier doesn't at least recognize a P-90?_

Sam's eyes met Jack's, glanced pointedly at the weapons being held by the other team, and back to Jack's eyes. "My original theory, sir?"

_Ho-ly cow!_ thought Jack as he looked more closely at the guns that were ready, but no longer pointed at his team. _I might not be able to ID the exact make and model, but those Lugers are a very old style! Carter's original theory- that'd be time travel- but to when? American commandoes in Germany, with Lugers, thinking we might be downed pilots- one of the World Wars?_ Glancing at Daniel, who had move to stand beside him on his other side, Jack whispered, "One or Two?"

"Little hard to tell at this point, Jack," answered Daniel, who showed his usual skill at picking up Jack's train of thought. "Maybe if they were in uniform I could tell. The Frenchman's from Paris; the Brit's from London's East En-"

"Later, Daniel." Jack interrupted. "Carter?"

"How'd you know my name?" asked Andrew.

Jack didn't show any sign that he'd even heard him speak; he merely asked, "Carter?" again when Sam didn't reply.

Sam was reliving a memory.

_The little girl walked out onto the porch and approached the old man in the rocker. "Grandpa, Mark says you blew stuff up in the war. Is that true?" _

_The old man pulled his five-year-old granddaughter into his lap and stroked her hair before answering. "Yes, sweetie, that is one of the things that I did during the war."_

_"Did you get to watch them go 'Boom!'?"_

_"Sometimes."_

_"Wow! That must have been fun!"_

_"Why do you say that, honey?"_

_"Because I love to watch the fireworks go boom! Daddy even let me light some last month! Next year, though, I'm going to make my own, so that they're even bigger!"_

_Her grandfather sighed again. _

_"What kinds of things did you blow up?" the little girl asked excitedly._

_The old man's voice was tired as he answered. "Factories, munitions dumps, trucks, bridges... lots of bridges."_

_"So you didn't blow up people?"_

_"I tried not to, sweetie."_

_"Is that what daddy's doing now?"_

_"I don't know, sweetheart. Your daddy didn't tell me what his mission was." The weathered face gazed sadly at the young one before him. He'd never meant to tell her any of this at such a young age. _

_"What else could he be doing?"_

_"Well, honey, I did more than just blow stuff up when I was in the Air Corps, and I'm sure that your daddy has lots of different jobs to do at different times."_

_"What else did you do?"_

_"Well, sometimes I pretended to be someone else; and sometimes I had to find out information and pass it on; but most of the time, I was just helping people get away from the bad guys."_

_"Really? Can you tell me a story about that?"_

_The old man stroked Samantha's hair again. "Okay, honey. Once upon a time, deep in the heart of Germany, there was a Papa Bear, and he ran a traveler's aide society..."_

One memory faded into another as Major Carter realized some things little Samantha never had while listening to her grandfather's stories.

_"Grandpa, tell me about your most exciting mission!"_

_"Oh, Samantha, are old war stories really what you want to hear right before bed?"_

_The eleven-year-old nodded vigorously and the old man sighed. Every time her husband went away on a mission, his daughter-in-law would ask him to come; every time he came, his granddaughter would follow him around asking for war stories incessantly. Sighing again, he thought for a moment as he tucked Sam's covers more snugly around her._

_"Well, I don't know about the most exciting, but I know which mission was definitely the weirdest. Once upon a time, deep in the heart of Germany, there was a Papa Bear who had four cubs. One night, those cubs went out to destroy a bridge. Along the way, they met up with some very strange people. There was an older man, two young men, and a woman who I thought was beautiful right away, even if she did appear to be wearing a man's uniform." The Sam's grandfather stroked her cheek. "She had beautiful blue eyes and blond hair, just like yours, only hers was cut very short..."_

"Carter!" Jack's irate voice and worried face in front of her own finally snapped Sam back to the present.

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir." She stepped around him. "And it's Two, sir."

"Major?" Jack turned around to watch her, somewhat confused by his 2IC's actions. Daniel and Teal'c were also staring at her. What they heard her say next made them gape.

Addressing herself to the slim young man whom she'd identified by the stories he hadn't told yet, she said, "Three sticks is plenty. And you should add five extra minutes on the timers. Which way is the stump?"

At her final question, four more jaws dropped and four pairs of eyes popped. Kinch was the first to recover.

"Excuse me? How do you know," he paused, "what you know?"

O'Neill couldn't help thinking, _Yes, major, how do you know anything about this situation, if we have indeed travelled back in time to Germany during World War Two?_

Drawing herself up to attention, Carter answered Kinch. "I have been individually briefed, Sergeant. But I would suggest that now is neither the time nor the place to stand around discussing things. So I suggest you go blow up the bridge, and we meet you back at camp. If you'd kindly point us in the right direction."

On hearing her address him by rank, Kinch's eyebrows rose, but he remained quiet until the end of her statement, although by the time she mentioned their target, he was sure that she'd either had a top-level briefing or there was a leak in their network the size of the Grand Canyon. He held up a hand to silence Newkirk and LeBeau, and then looked her in the eye. "Code first."

Major Carter sucked in a breath. Either this hadn't been a part of the story, or she'd forgotten it. Deciding to hedge her bets by using her grandfather's peculiar and repetitive story beginning, she answered. "Once upon a time, deep in the heart of Germany, there was a Papa Bear, and he ran a traveler's aide society... We heard that hospitality was granted to Allies even if they forgot to make a reservation."

It wasn't a recognition code, but she'd used Hogan's code name and she had obvious knowledge of their operation, so Kinch decided to trust his gut- at least up to a point. "LeBeau."

"Yes, Kinch?"

"Take them back to camp. Don't let them out of your sight until either the colonel or I has a chance to question them further."

"Oui. Watch your backs."

As Kinch, Newkirk, and Sergeant Carter turned to leave, Andrew couldn't help looking back over his shoulder.

"Come on, mate. Plenty o' time for that when we get back to camp. Although I 'ave to admit that bird still looks pretty good, considerin' her hair's all cut off an' she's wearin' trousers."

Glancing back through the trees one last time, Carter answered, "It's not like that, Newkirk. I just can't figure how she'd know I've been wondering since we left camp if three sticks of dynamite would be enough."

Newkirk put on his poker face and changed the subject rather than venturing a guess.

Meanwhile, as soon as LeBeau had gotten in front of them, Jack had grabbed one of Sam's arms and pulled her close enough to hiss in her ear, "What the hell was all that? And who are these people?"

Putting her lips right next to his ear, she answered. "They're Allied soldiers running an underground unit, right under the Nazis' noses. And the man with the dynamite- their Carter- is- was- will be- my grandpa."

"What?" Jack's sotto voce exclamation made LeBeau turn around and glare at him; his sudden stop had Daniel nearly running into himself and Carter. Looking back, he saw Daniel grinning and halfheartedly pretending that he hadn't been following them as closely as possible in an attempt to overhear their conversation.

"You heard me, sir. And I think that's enough info for here and now."

_**Author's note:**_

_The idea for this came from a wacky dream. Please don't blame me for the crazy things that my mind comes up with while I'm unconscious. Hopefully you all got a laugh out of this- it's got to be one of the weirdest crossovers out there, right?_

_And in case you didn't know, I don't own Hogan's Heroes or Stargate SG-1._

_I'm not making any money from this, either._

_**I love feedback, so please let me know what you think.**_

(1) I don't speak French, but I think this means: _classic bouillabaisse must contain three fish: scorpionfish, sea robin, and conger._ Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong about that.

(2) I don't really speak German either. I think this is equivalent to: _"Who are you? Come out here now! Quickly!"_


	2. Camp

_**Chapter 2: Camp**_

As they got closer and closer to camp, Le Beau was trying to decide if he wanted to go into the tree stump first or last. _Kinch said not to let them out of his sight- but how can I possibly watch all of them at the same time while they are entering the tunnels? So the question becomes: do I want to go first, show them where the tunnel is and be able to keep an eye on them when they enter the tunnel and risk them sounding the alarm in the forest, or do I want to send them down first, keep an eye on them in the woods and risk one or more of them running off into other portions of the tunnel and finding out way more than we want them to know?_ Glancing at the people following him, though, LeBeau was filled with unease. _The mademoiselle already knows far more than she ought to, if she was not sent here._

"Shit, that looks like a POW camp!" swore the older man as the barbed wire and lights of Stalag 13 came into view. Uttering a few more phrases that LeBeau was sure would have had Carter blushing, he looked back over his shoulder and queried, "Now what?"

Major Carter answered calmly, "We go in, sir."

"You knew!?" Jack swore colorfully. "How the hell did you know?"

"Later, sir." Carter laid one finger alongside her nose. Looking over at their guide, she said, "Which stump is it?"

_Mon Dieu! I forgot she already mentioned the stump! Well, I guess this takes away the need to decide; it's obvious she intends to lead the others down. But why would someone brief the woman and not the officer in charge?_ he wondered as he silently pointed to the appropriate trunk. "Wait for..." he started to whisper a warning, but she was already moving. "the lights." he finished as she deftly flipped the top of the tree stump up and climbed down into the hollow tree trunk.

Next to him, the older man whispered, "Sweet." Watching the lights, he beckoned one of the younger men forward. "Daniel, you next. In between sweeps of those klieg lights."

"Yes, Jack." The tone of voice the young American used reminded LeBeau forcefully of Newkirk's insolent tones toward the Colonel at times. He had to choke back the urge to laugh at the longsuffering look on the man's face.

"O'Neill." The black man spoke up. "This place appears to be heavily fortified and filled with enemy soldiers. Would it not be wiser to seek shelter elsewhere?"

"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you, T, but we're gonna trust Carter on this one. She seems to know what's going on better..." Jack trailed off and signaled to Teal'c to go down the trunk next.

Looking at the sheer size of the man, LeBeau knew an instant's worry that the huge man would not fit through the tree trunk- or worse yet, would get stuck trying to get in and get them all caught. LeBeau breathed a sigh of relief as he lowered himself into the tunnel.

O'Neill went next, and then LeBeau followed him. He was relieved to see that the others were waiting at the bottom of the of the ladder in a tight huddle, even though they stopped whispering at his approach.. He motioned for them to follow him down the tunnel. He brought them as far as the radio, where Baker was monitoring the set. Louis tapped him on the shoulder. Baker looker over his shoulder, did a double take at the group standing behind him, and then affirmed, "I'll go get the colonel."

"We can wait... if he is still occupied." Louis said cryptically.

"Okay, but I'd think they'll be breaking the party up soon if they haven't yet. It's nearly midnight."

Baker went over and triggered the release on the bunk, then climbed the ladder before shutting the trap door after him. Less than fifteen minutes later, he was back with Colonel Hogan. They were both surprised at the scene that met them in the radio room.

LeBeau was sitting on the front of the radio desk, watching the four guests. Jack was pacing, Teal'c was standing quietly at parade rest against the wall, Sam was straddling the wooden chair backwards with her arms propped on top as she listened to Daniel, who was lying on his back on the cot and explaining how if Jack continued pacing, he might actually wear a rut in this particular floor.

"Besides, Jack, this is hardly like some of the other times we've been captured. They're friendlies, we just have to convince them to help us."

"And just how..." Jack stopped speaking as he turned around and saw Colonel Hogan standing there. Recognizing him as the officer in charge, he strode over and introduced himself: "Colonel Jack O'Neill."

"Colonel Robert Hogan." Hogan ran his eyes over the man and then glanced at the rest of the team. In his appraisal, he missed the look in Jack's eyes when he said his name. Hogan felt somewhat disconcerted by the fact that they knew that his men considered them prisoners, and yet had made no effort to escape and in fact seemed quite comfortable. The casual ease with which the man on the cot had joked- _**joked!**_- about being captured made Hogan leery.

Turning to his own team member, he snapped, "LeBeau, report."

"Oui, mon colonel. We were on our way to the target when Newkirk noticed these people following us. They claimed to be Allies, but did not know a recognition code. But the woman- she seems to know far too much about our operation. She addressed Kinch by his rank, and knew your code name. She spoke of the operation as a 'traveler's aide society', but also gave Carter advice on his explosives- which he did not ask for. And she knew that the camp was our base, and that the entrance was in a stump. And that one" he pointed at Jack, "knew Carter's name."

Hogan had grown more incredulous and suspicious as the list went on. He turned towards his guests. "So, how much do you know and how do you know it?"

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "Sir, allow me." Turning to Hogan, she continued. "I'm afraid we can't tell you how we know the things we know. I know quite a bit about your operation, but I can't even tell you who told me, other than to say that it was a mutual friend. The rest of my team knows considerably less. We are no threat to your operation, and we will be leaving again within the next few weeks. All we ask is to be allowed to stay in the tunnels during that time and maybe get a few meals from LeBeau. In return, we will offer to help you with any forthcoming missions that you have where you may need an extra hand."

Hogan raised an eyebrow. The woman in front of him had spoken confidently, as one who is not used to having her statements countered. And he had not missed the way that she had addressed the man as 'Sir'; and though he had allowed her to speak for 'her' team, his eyes had betrayed astonishment when she stated a departure time, and again when she offered help. There was definitely something going on here, and Hogan wasn't going to fully trust them until he got to the bottom of it.

"Well, I'll be needing your names so that I can check you out with London."

"I'm afraid that won't work, sir." The woman interrupted. "London is not aware of our mission here."

"Then who shall I check you out with?"

"I'm afraid that you won't be able to do that at all," Jack cleared his throat, "Colonel."

"And I'm just supposed to trust you? How do I know you're not German spies?"

Jack raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but before he could retort, Sam cut in, "You're not going to embarrass us again, are you, Daniel?" Which made Teal'c smile, and Jack and Daniel both burst out laughing.

Hogan pulled a face. "Care to let me in on the joke?"

Jack managed to straighten up again. "Well, on a previous occasion when we were asked in Russian if we were Soviet spies, Daniel" he waved a hand to indicate him, "answered, 'Nyet'. Thereby confirming our captors' suspicions." He chuckled again.

Daniel stood up. "In my defense, speaking a language is hardly proof of anything. Besides, if you considered me a spy for every language I could speak, I wouldn't be a double agent, I'd be like a twenty-something-eth agent."

Sam and Jack couldn't help laughing again, even though he was dead serious. Hogan cracked a smile at the brash young man. _If Carter's skills were with languages instead of explosives, he might say something like that._

"You still haven't told me your names." He glanced at the team members. "Except you, Colonel- O'Neill, did you say?"

Jack knew Hogan had no more forgotten his name than he'd forgotten his own, but he wasn't surprised that Hogan wanted to test him. "Yes, Colonel Jack O'Neill, and this is my team: (he gestured to each as he spoke) Major Samantha Carter, Doctor Daniel Jackson, and Teal'c."

Hogan's eyes had widened at the mention of 'major' in reference to the woman and gotten progressively wider as the introductions continued. _He's got a female officer and two civilians for a team? Just what kind of thing is he running? And why on earth should I really believe that he really is an American officer? Our army doesn't allow women in combat positions. And civilians? Even civilians who speak a number of languages? Why not just draft them; they seem fit enough. In fact that big guy-Teal'c-and what kind of name is that?- looks like he could easily take down just about anyone. He might even be able to beat Kinch. They've got to be some kind of spies, or maybe a sabotage unit. But then why in heaven's name didn't someone give me a heads-up that they were coming?_

None of SG-1 had missed Hogan's reaction to the introductions. Teal'c was the only one caught slightly off guard by it. Jack decided to offer something in placation: "I know my team is very unusual, but they all have their specialties and together we make the best damn special ops team there is."

Hogan and LeBeau both nearly winced at Jack's profanity. _Such language, and in front of a lady, no less!_

Jack continued, sure that he could earn Hogan's trust with a few well-placed tidbits of info. "And since we spend more time together on missions than apart, we consider each other family. Not unlike your own group, Colonel."

Hogan looked at the other man appraisingly. LeBeau had said that the woman- Major Carter- knew far too much, but her CO seemed to know plenty, as well, despite what she'd said to the contrary.

"So who's in the lead for the pennant?" Hogan asked, thinking that a sports question might at least put his mind at ease a little, even if it was a little harder to check.

Jack and Daniel answered simultaneously. "Well, it's been a while since we were home, so I'm not really sure." "Saint Louis Cardinals." (1)

Jack shot a look at Daniel, who covered by stating, "Don't mind Jack. He probably wouldn't notice even if we were in the States right now. All he pays attention to is hockey and football."

"The Cardinals again, huh? Think they'll win the series this year?"

Daniel decided to hedge his bets on this one. "Yeah, they've got a really good team going. I wouldn't be surprised if they keep dominating for several years."

"You think they're that good?"

"Well, I haven't had the opportunity to see a game, but I've heard plenty about what a hot commodity Stan the Man is."

"Well, if we're gonna root for them, then we better hope that the Yankees are more like two years ago than they were last year, huh?"

His brain analyzing the comment at the speed of light and spitting out the appropriate game stats as well as the year, Daniel answered. (2) "Actually, I might put money on the Yankees not making it to the World Series this year. The Browns are something of a miracle team. They're on a winning streak, and I think they might be able to hold it long enough to grab the American League pennant. I have no idea how they've won as many games as they have with the team they have- they've even got a one-armed man playing this year, but can you imagine what it would be like if the Cardinals played the Browns?"

Hogan nodded thoughtfully, _well he at least seems to know what he's talking about in regards to sports. Although the Browns are nowhere near as good as the Yankees; he's nuts to think they've got a shot at the series_.

A voice from further along the tunnel echoed his thoughts as Andrew Carter spoke up. "Well, I think you're nuts, boy! The Browns aren't that great of a team. They haven't even made it into the top division in like ten years!"

Daniel let out a mirthless chuckle in answer to the returning commando. "Well, luckily for them, a lot of teams have lost many of their best players to the war."

Hogan cut off the baseball talk by asking his men for a report.

"Well, sir, things went pretty well, all things considered.," Newkirk reported. "A patrol came strollin' along just as soon as we'd finished plantin' the dynamite, so we had to hide, even though we knew the time was running out."

"They nearly gave me a heart attack, hiding that close to the bridge. I thought for sure they'd end up being blown to bits," interrupted Kinch.

"Any'ow, as soon as they were past, me an' Carter 'ere took off runnin' as fast as we could, but then the bridge blew, and we were still close enough to get knocked off our feet. But we 'auled ourselves up an' took off again."

"But you're not injured?" Hogan asked.

"No sir," the three chorused.

Turning to Sam, Carter added, "And I'd just like to say thank you, ma'am. If you hadn't said to add five minutes to the timer, Newkirk and I'd probably have died tonight. I don't know how you knew, but thank you."

The rest of Hogan's team gaped, astounded. Newkirk was the first to speak. "Bloody 'ell! You mean we ruddy well should 'ave died tonight an' the only reason we didn't is that someone just 'appened to tell you to add time to the timer?"

"Yeah. And I nearly didn't do it. But I figured if she knew I'd been worried about three sticks being enough, she might know something about the timing."

"Bloody 'ell!"

"Newkirk." Hogan's mind had accepted the improbable facts enough for him to notice the man's swearing. "There's a lady present." He nodded at Sam.

Newkirk blushed. "Oh, begging your pardon, miss."

Sam smiled at him. "Don't worry about it. I've heard far worse."

Hogan and his men looked askance at her. Daniel winked at her conspiratorially before asking sotto voce, "From Colonel potty-mouth, you mean?"

"Daniel."

LeBeau was glad the other colonel was too busy glaring at his teammate to notice the smirk that had appeared on his face. He couldn't help it; the man had sworn a blue streak when he saw the camp and Louis couldn't help thinking that the nickname, however childish, fit.

"Yes, Jack?" Daniel's voice was back up to its normal level and filled with the most innocent and helpful of tones.

Louis turned a laugh into a cough as his and Hogan's thoughts ran parallel tracks. _Oh, no. That sounds like another Newkirk. Insolent and yet able to get away with anything. Like calling his commander by his first name._

Jack rubbed his face tiredly. "You get first watch."

"Aw, come on, Jack. We don't really need a watch here, do we?"

"He's right, sir." Sam sided with Daniel, thinking that she'd enjoy sleeping through the night on a mission.

"Indeed." Teal'c's deep voice entered the conversation for the first time.

Looking at Hogan ruefully, Jack commented, "You sure are lucky. You see what I have to deal with? An XO whose job description includes 'offering alternative solutions'- in other words, questioning orders; and two civilians who think this team is a democracy. Your whole team are enlisted men who follow your orders."

He was distinctly nonplussed when all of the Heroes either smiled or laughed outright at his statement.

**Author's Notes:**

(1) The Cardinals won the pennant in 42, 43, 44, and 46. They were in second place in 41, 45, 47, 48, and 49. Thus every year between Pearl Harbor and V-E day, they won the pennant. They also won the World Series in 42 and 44.

(2) Figuring out the year would have been possible because during the war, the World Series went as follows:

42: Cardinals defeat Yankees

43: Yankees defeat Cardinals

44: 'Streetcar series'- Cardinals defeat Browns-

And the Browns did indeed beat the Yankees in spite of having an infield who were all 4-F and at least nine players on the team over the age of 34. Their team also included Pete Gray, an outfielder who is thus far the only one-armed Major League player.


	3. Breakfast

_**Chapter 3: Breakfast**_

As his team trooped back into the barracks after roll call the next morning, Hogan pulled Newkirk aside. "So what do you think of our guests?"

"I'm not sure, sir. They seem to know an awful lot already, but they're very tight-lipped."

"Tell me something I don't know," grumbled Hogan.

"They're a well-oiled machine, sir. A team doesn't get close enough to joke around like that overnight."

"Yes." Hogan stroked his jaw, then sat down at the table. Looking over at Carter, Lebeau, and Kinch, he asked, "So do we trust them?"

"I sure do, boy. I mean, sir." Carter volunteered. "That lady saved my life, and Newkirk's. And she didn't have to say anything at all. But if she hadn't, well..."

"I 'ave to agree with Carter on that point sir," interrupted Newkirk. "If she'd wanted to hurt the operation, all that bird would 'ave 'ad to do is keep her mouth shut. But she didn't." He puffed on the cigarette thoughtfully. "But that raises the question again, sir- how does she know what she knows? Because the dynamite- well, okay, I guess someone could figure out how much would be needed if they knew what bridge we was gonna blow- but there's no way she could have known that we would need more time. Even if she knew a patrol was scheduled, she couldn't know if we'd be there before or after or at the same time as them."

"Perhaps she is psychic," offered LeBeau from the stove.

Hogan groaned. Kinch looked pensive. Newkirk snorted incredulously.

"I think we should trust them, mon colonel. They had more than enough information to get us caught if they wanted to, but chose not to. Even asking about the tree stump- the mademoiselle knew that one of the stumps would lead into camp, and she could have just gone around trying them all. But she chose to ask and then snuck in, rather than giving it away."

"He's got a point, colonel," agreed Kinch. "They had more than enough intel to expose us before they even saw us in the woods. I think we should trust them- at least enough to let them stay in the tunnels."

"Well, now, if we've decided they're guests and not prisoners, I think I'll just go an' invite 'em up for breakfast," Newkirk stated as he strolled over to the bunk and hit it twice. As he clambered down the ladder and into the tunnel, Newkirk heard Hogan say, "Evans, watch the door."

Turning the corner and entering the room in the tunnels the four guests had been staying in, Newkirk was surprised at how he found them: the lights were still out and three of them were sound asleep- O'Neill was actually snoring quite loudly, which he assumed was the reason one of the others had put their pillow over their head- while Teal'c was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Even in the dim light from the tunnel, he could see that the man did not open his eyes when he came in. Nevertheless, Teal'c greeted him, "Good morning, Newkirk."

"'Ow did you know it was me?"

"You sound different than your friends," came the reply. "How may I be of service?"

"Well, I just came down to get you for breakfast."

"Then may I suggest you turn on the lights in this chamber," Teal'c intoned.

_This chamber? I'm not the only one who doesn't sound like his friends,_ thought Newkirk as he turned on the lights.

Almost immediately, the relatively long hair shifted on one of the cots and Daniel groaned, "Aw, Jack, come on! We only just went to bed..." as he rolled over.

O'Neill, on the other hand, was already sitting up and stretching. He picked up the pillow on his cot and looked at the two teammates still abed before throwing the pillow at Carter and kicking Daniel's cot, which was closer. His pillow hit Carter's, knocking it off her head. Clapping his hands, he said loudly, "Good morning campers! Rise and shine!"

"Time for breakfast!" added Newkirk, thinking that might help entice the two still in bed.

"Oh," said Carter, pushing herself up off of the cot and finger-combing her hair. "That sounds good."

"Which prison-camp fare is that, Carter?" asked Daniel as he sat up and pulled his boots on. "The watered-down gruel or the sawdust bread?"

Carter winked at Newkirk as he opened his mouth to correct that assumption. "Okay, Daniel, if that's your feelings on the matter, you go ahead and munch on a power bar. I'm going with Newkirk."

Jack looked from one to the other, trying to decide whether to go with his XO's intuition , which had heretofore been spot-on, or Daniel's facts, which happened to line up with his own experiences with prison food. _They're both usually right._ He chose to follow Teal'c through the door. _No problem with being friendly. Besides, if it's awful, then I'll know better for next time._

Unbeknownst to him, Daniel was having similar thoughts and decided to follow him the rest of the team- after he grabbed a power bar.

As they came up through the bunk and the smell of eggs and bacon assaulted his nostrils, Jack knew he'd made the right choice. Grinning broadly at the ladder's setup, he climbed over the rail and sat right next to Sam. Teal'c was sitting on a stool at the end of the table that seemed to be little more than a portion of tree stump, and Jack grinned as Daniel took a seat next to Andrew Carter, just in time to have LeBeau scoop some eggs onto his plate.

"I thought you weren't hungry?" Jack teased as Daniel inhaled the aroma.

"I've been won over," Daniel replied, already picking up his fork.

"Didn't I mention LeBeau was a chef?" asked Sam cheekily.

The rest of the table turned to look at her. "And just how would you know that?" asked Hogan after a moment's silence.

"Um..." Sam took her time chewing the bite in her mouth. "It was part of my briefing. I knew he had to be good if you use his strudel to bribe Schultzie and his dinners to get info out of the German big shots."

"Schultzie?" said Carter, Newkirk, and Kinch in unison. Carter continued, "We're the only ones that call him Schultzie. Just who did you say briefed you again?"

"She didn't," muttered Hogan darkly.

Meanwhile, Sam glanced at SG-1 as if to say, 'Oops.'

Jack took the lead in distraction, asking LeBeau, "So, where did you learn how to cook like this?"

"Did not Daniel Jackson say last night that he was from Paris?" asked Teal'c, knowing that they had to keep the conversation going.

"Oh, yeah, he did, didn't he?" said Jack affably. "Come to think of it, we should have guessed that he'd be a chef, because he and um..." Jack snapped his fingers a few times, as if trying to remember the name, and said, "the Brit were arguing about food out in the woods."

"Well, I guess that makes me the dummy, because I'm probably the only one of us who actually understood what he was saying about the bouillabaisse."

"Oh guys, you weren't!" Hogan rolled his eyes.

"They were." Kinch confirmed. "Rather loudly, even." Turning to look at the other end of the table, he asked, "How much did you overhear before we caught you tailing us?"

"Not much," replied Jack. "But enough to realize you weren't Germans." He grinned at Newkirk. "And just for future reference, once you've yelled, "There's someone behind us!" in that accent of yours, no amount of German will convince me you're not British."

"Schultz!" hissed Evans from the door.

"Quick, the tunnel!" said Hogan.

"NO TIME!" Evans stood and ran outside, purposely running into Schultz and knocking him down.

Sam, however, had started pushing Jack into Hogan's office as soon as they stood, and after Evans shot out of the barracks, Hogan held the door open to his office, managing to pull it shut as if he was just coming out of it as Schultz entered the barracks.


	4. ET Phone Home

_**Chapter 4: ET Phone Home**_

"Sir, we have an incoming wormhole. There's no IDC, but it's coming from the planet where we lost contact with SG-1, sir." Sergeant Harriman reported to General Hammond as he entered the control room.

"Don't open the gate just yet. They're more than three days overdue for a check-in, and they may have been captured."

"No sir, I don't think that will be necessary, sir. There's readings coming in from the MALP, and I believe the aliens may be trying to use it to contact us, sir." Harriman replied.

"Activate the camera and microphone."

"Yes sir," Walter flipped a few switches. "Done, sir."

Looking at the images displayed on the screen, Hammond recognized them as the same beings with whom he had previously spoken- at least, he thought they were the same. When contending with short fur in a variety of gold and tan hues, facial recognition was a bit more difficult. But the ornamented robes also seemed to be the same. Watching a finger reach out and touch the lens of the camera on the other side, Hammond decided that Harriman was most likely correct about the aliens' motivation. _They _were_ trying to contact earth with the MALP. But why? And why the blazes hadn't SG-1 been in contact?_

"This is General George Hammond, of Stargate Command on the planet Earth. With whom am I speaking?" The aliens looked startled by the voice at first, but turned back towards the camera after a moment. Hammond rubbed a hand over his bald pate while trying to think how to diplomatically phrase his next question. Thankfully, the aliens spoke, saving him the trouble.

"Greetings, General George Hammond. I am Minister Eglarond, and this is Advisor Theris. We have heard your voice on our machines, trying to contact others of your world. We believe we have discovered what transpired. Two **lenta*** ago, we came together at the Ring of the Ancients to meet your group, as we had previously agreed. At the appointed time, the Ring lit up, shook, and briefly flashed on and then off. However, no one came out of the ring at that time."

Hammond sucked in a breath. _Oh, God, no..._

"Since that time we have been trying to discover what happened. Since we have not made use of the Ring in many **furgushen***, we thought that an error may have occurred within our Ring.

"What we have discovered is that during the time the Ring was lit up, a solar flare was occurring in our sun. We were unsure as to what possible effects this might have on the wormhole or the beings within..."

"A solar flare?" squeaked Harriman. "Sir- you don't think..."

"Shh," said Hammond, focusing on what the alien was saying.

"But when we consulted our records, looking for times when this may have happened in the past, we discovered a record of a strange occurrence that took place quite a few **enteri* **ago. I was unaware of this occurrence until recently.

"Four beings, one of them a Jaffa, came out of the gate suddenly and without warning. Our sensors detected them immediately and a patrol was sent to pick them up and return them to their place of origin." The being, Eglarond, inclined his head. "That planet was the first world of the Ancients; the planet you come from. Are you aware of this occurrence?"

"Sir, we're having a little difficulty with your time reference. Can you tell us how many **lenta** are in an **enteri**?" Harriman asked, before silently begging the General's pardon for grabbing the mike.

"Ah, yes, I apologize. There are five hundred and three **lenta** in one **enteri**, and the incident I speak of happened approximately 23 **enteri** ago."

Harriman did some rapid calculations while explaining to the general, "We already know that their **lenta** is about 43 hours long based on the schedule we set up for first contact. Given that information, sir, the team they're talking about would have gone through sometime between 54 and 59 years ago, sir."

"So right around the time the gate experiments were going on in World War Two." Hammond frowned. _How on earth was he supposed to know if the government had sent someone to that planet back then? Ernest Littlefield was still stuck in Heliopolis when our own Gate program was initiated; how do I know others weren't abandoned in the same fashion?_

"Sir, if I may-" Harriman spoke up, seeming to read his CO's mind, as usual. "The only recorded time that the Gate was successfully dialed in the forties was to Ernest's planet. After they thought that he died, the entire program was shut down. So I find it highly unlikely that anyone from Earth could have actually gone to the planet at that time, especially without the computer recalculating for stellar drift. The fact that there was a Jaffa there pretty much assures that it is SG-1 they're talking about."

"Which leaves us where?" Squeezing the mike, the General spoke to the alien again. "You said that they were returned to Earth?"

"Yes, although it appears from the records that my people were not overly careful about where on your planet they were deposited, as they did not want to risk an entanglement with the Goa'uld."

"Thank you, Minister Eglarond, for giving us this information. Unfortunately, we do not know yet what happened after that. We will search our own records for any clues as to what may have happened to our team." Hammond took a deep breath, then forced out the words that wanted to stick in his throat. "We would like to continue communicating with you. Perhaps we could talk again, about one of your **egleri**-"

Walter elbowed him and hissed, "**Lenta**, not **egleri**!"

"Sorry, make that one of your **lenta** from now."

"This is acceptable," replied the minister. "If I am not available personally at this time of **lenta**, I will make sure that Advisor Theris is."

"Thank you, minister."

As the Stargate shut down, Harriman said, "And I'll make sure you're available at 7:30 Thursday morning, sir."

Looking at him, Hammond couldn't help but ask, "And when did I almost set the meeting up for?"

"Two and a half years from now, sir."

The general sighed. "Thank you, Walter. And would you please have Rothman and any other available personnel with backgrounds in history and archeology come to the briefing room ASAP?"

"Already making a list of who to call, sir."

**Author's notes:**

**Lenta, enteri, and furgushen** are all time units I've made up for my aliens. Think of them as days, years, and centuries- but all on a much longer time scale.

1 lenta (their solar day) = 43 hours

1 enteri (their solar year) = 503 lenta ~ 2.5 years

1 furgushen = 500 enteri ~ 1250 years

And no, it's not a typo when I say they haven't used their stargate in millenia.


	5. Colonels' Conversation

_**Chapter 5: Colonels' Conversation**_

"You still haven't told me what your mission is." Hogan had pointedly asked Jack to remain when he came in to tell the others that the coast was clear, and his tone of voice made it clear he wanted some answers.

Jack was staring out the window, trying to make up his mind what he should tell Hogan. Finally, he settled on repaying him for the shock he'd been given many years earlier at the Academy.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" O'Neill asked, turning back to face Hogan with a twinkle in his eye.

"Last night?" Hogan was unimpressed. _If that represents his skills at dissimulation, then I wouldn't be surprised that they've been captured before. Even a number of times._

"No." Jack took a deep breath, realizing now just how hard it must have been for his professor. "Years ago."

"No, I can't say that I do remember meeting you. Which is odd, because unlike Klink, I usually recognize people that I know," replied Hogan, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Are you sure that we've met before?"

"Absolutely. But don't worry, I'm sure that in another thirty or forty years, I'll have completely forgotten you when you ask me if I remember you," Jack answered flippantly. _This time round, I'll even try to do better at not taking offense when you ask me a dozen questions about my family._

_Thirty years? I'll be lucky if I'm even alive in thirty years! Hell, I'll be lucky if I'm still alive at the end of the war. The number of times we've nearly been caught... but back to business. _Hogan's voice took on a steely note. "You never answered my question."

"I'm afraid that I can't, Colonel. But don't worry; I'm not going to cause you any trouble. We just want to complete it and go home."

"Not good enough. If you expect my cooperation, you have to give me something."

"How long have you been a Colonel, Hogan?"

_Oh, damn, not this again. Maybe one of these days I'll have to get Newkirk to forge me a new date of rank on my papers._ Hogan sighed deeply. _ Although, I have to admit, this one doesn't seem anywhere near as bad as Crittendon._

Jack raised an eyebrow at him, indicating he was still waiting for an answer. Hogan sighed again. "Not as long as you, I'm guessing."

Jack grinned. "That's affirmative. However, I don't intend to rub that in your face or try to take over your command. But I am going to have to ask you to trust me and my team, because I honestly can't explain our mission." _Carter would kill me. _

_And with good reason, too. If it was dangerous to be in the past before, it's much more so now. If we change history with this group, it could alter her family- she might never even be born._

Tapping his hat on the desk before sliding it on backwards, Jack turned to Hogan and asked, "Now, shall we go out and see what our teams are up to, before Carter decides to play with your young man's chemistry set or Daniel sets up language classes?"

As he followed O'Neill out into the main barracks, it took Hogan a moment to realize that he was talking about the woman playing with his Carter's chemistry set. _Which brings up another point._ "Actually, sir, I was wondering..." his voice trailed off at the look on O'Neill's face. Turning to face the table, he realized that all of his men- and all of Jack's- were engaged in a poker game.

There was no way that he could have known that Jack's shock was entirely due to the fact that Teal'c was playing. Until, of course, Newkirk called his bet and told him to reveal his hand. Daniel and Sam's laughter, combined with various advice and the confused comment, "I thought the purpose of this exercise was to outbid one's opponent." made it clear that the man had never played poker before.

Speaking quietly to Jack, Hogan commented, "Sorry. I guess I should have warned your team about the local card shark."

He was surprised when Jack replied, "Nah, Carter and Daniel both knew what they were getting into, I think. And Teal'c- well, it's good to see him lose. With his poker face, as soon as he gets the hang of this game, nobody'll ever be able to beat him again."

"Speaking of your team, why is it that you call the men by their first names and Carter by her last name?"

"Military." Jack grunted. "I used to call her Captain-Doctor sometimes, just to get on her nerves, but that doesn't really work anymore since she was promoted."

"Captain-Doctor? You have two doctors on your team?"

Jack grinned, leaning against the wall as the two CO's continued to watch the poker game. "Yes, but not in the way that you're thinking. Daniel's got degrees in archeology, anthropology, and linguistics; Carter's doctorate is in astrophysics, although I personally think that she deserves several more."

"Well, sir, for the duration of this mission, do you think that we could refer to her by her first name?"

"I think that's doable, although I'd recommend using 'Sam' rather than 'Samantha'. But I'll only agree if you call me Jack."

"Okay, Jack. That's settled. Shall we go tell them?"


	6. Conference

**Chapter 6: Conference**

"Who do you suppose that was upstairs, Jack?" Daniel asked. When the corporal had come running in from the yard and said, "Hochstetter!" just after the two colonels emerged from Hogan's office, everyone in the room had suddenly tensed and they couldn't get their guests back into the tunnel quickly enough.

"Not sure," Jack replied. He led the way back to the room they'd bunked in the night before as he continued. "But since I needed to have a bit of a conference with you all anyways and we now seem to be assured of privacy for a while, I think now would be an excellent time to talk."

Jack sat on his bunk, with Carter dragging her cot closer to Daniel's, so that they could all sit on the bunks and hear as Jack quietly continued. "First off, I've agreed with Hogan that we should go by our first names while we're here. It'll help avoid confusion, since his men generally just refer to him as 'Colonel', and between the two Carters." Jack couldn't stop himself from pulling a face as he remembered the other Carter. "So while we're here, I'm Jack and you're Sam," he said, glancing at Carter. "Furthermore, he's going to see if they have a few extra contemporary uniforms that we can borrow to wear aboveground. And I'm sorry, Major, but you're probably going to get stuck spending more time down here than the rest of us, just because this is an all-male camp, and you'd be noticed a lot quicker.

"Now, speaking of there being two Carters, can you shed any more light on the bomb you dropped on me last night?" Jack asked Sam.

Sam went to the door and checked the passage before answering. "I'm sorry, Sir. I realize it must have been a bit of a shock to you. I was kind of putting things together on the fly. I mean, I recognized Grandpa from some of his old pictures- he actually has a photo album just dedicated to the war and his team- I mean, I can tell you he'll stay in closest contact with Newkirk, and the two of them will still be having drinks together at some pub called the Red Lion twenty-five years from now- but the rest of it is just trying to figure out the codes he used when he used to tell me bedtime stories."

"Bedtime stories?" Jack and Daniel asked simultaneously.

"Yeah, bedtime stories. When I was a little girl, I used to beg him to tell me war stories. Especially about exploding things. Because if you haven't figured it out yet, he's their demolitions expert.

"His stories always used to start out the same way: Once upon a time, deep in the heart of Germany, there was a Papa Bear... And the main characters never changed: the Papa Bear and his four cubs: the black cub, the blue cub, the red cub, and the green cub; the pigs, some of whom were friendly and some of whom were not, and the wolves. When I got to be a teenager, I started to wonder about some of the things that he told me, like the pigs bossing the bears around some of the time, but the bears being able to do what they wanted most of the time. Like the bears and the pigs being scared of the wolves. And I started to really put together some of the things that he was telling me, mostly from me looking at the albums and asking questions, and him not couching everything in metaphors as I got older.

"For instance, I knew he was in a POW camp during the war; he got asked to come speak about it at my school once. So eventually I realized that the treehouse the bears lived in that was surrounded by pigs and had secret tunnel exits that came out through a hollow tree stump was really a reference to the POW camp where he stayed.

"And last night... well, the reason that I knew what to say last night is that I'd already been told what to say. That was one of my favorite stories growing up, the story of my Grandpa's biggest adventure, because Grandpa never hid the fact that the visitors were people... in fact, he always used to say how pretty the woman was and how she had eyes just like mine..." Carter trailed off a bit, before Jack put his hand on her knee to bring her back to what was, for now, the present.

"And I'll tell you that whole story in just a little bit, but first I just want to thank you, Colonel, for trusting me, because I realized last night after we were here that willingly going into a prison camp can't have been easy for you." Sam and Jack locked eyes for a second.

"Anyway, here's the story..." Sam's voice was once again cut off as Jack interrupted.

"First, Major, I'd like to know how you had a departure date for us."

Sam blushed. "The story, of course."

"So you know how we're going to get out of here?"

"Well, no, not exactly, but..."

Daniel interrupted this time. "Then shouldn't we figure that out first? Not that I think your Grandfather's stories won't be interesting."

"Perhaps Major Carter believes that her story will aide us in discovering our means of return to Stargate Command," Teal'c inserted.

"We'll get back to that in a minute." Jack said firmly. "First, though, I want to make it absolutely clear, that no matter how much we might want to give Hogan and his men intel or gadgets that might possibly even have the power to end the war sooner, we just can't risk it.

"Yes, I know, Hitler's a sadist who deserves to die, and the Nazis and the Japanese really need to be stopped, and the millions of people in the concentration camps certainly don't deserve to die. But if we were able to give the US the power to end the war sooner, it might alter our history for the worse. For instance, if I gave Hogan intel enough to help him assassinate Hitler, one of the German generals on his staff might take over and be even worse. And if we were to end World War Two without the atomic bomb, the Cold War would probably end up being World War Three and we might destroy the planet firing off nukes at each other instead of agreeing not to because of MAD. And then there's the fact that if we change anything, and I mean, _**ANYTHING**_, Carter might never even be born and that would guarantee the end of the world, as far as I'm concerned. Because without Carter, the world would be completely sucked through the black hole gate, or we'd be lost forever in 1969, or we'd have never been able to calculate the stellar drift and go anywhere other than Abydos and Apophis would have wiped us out completely.

"So, we need to interact as little as possible and make sure that we don't change anything."

Everyone nodded somberly.

"And in light of the fact that we can't change anything, I think I better tell you all the story so that you know what we've already done so that we can do it again," Carter said.


	7. Bedtime Story

_**Chapter 7: Bedtime Story**_

_Once upon a time, deep in the heart of Germany, there was a Papa Bear who had four cubs. One night, those cubs went out to destroy a bridge. Along the way, they met up with some very strange people. There was an older man, two young men, and a woman who I thought was beautiful right away, even if she did appear to be wearing a man's uniform. She had beautiful blue eyes and blond hair, just like yours, only hers was cut very short._

_Almost from the moment he met her, the green cub stood in awe of the strange woman. It seemed she had the ability to read his mind. She knew, without asking, that he'd been worrying if he'd brought enough fireworks. So he was surprised when the first thing she said was, "Three sticks is plenty. And you should add five extra minutes on the timers." And then she asked for directions to the bears' treehouse._

_It turned out that the stranger was right, for if the green cub hadn't added the extra time, he and the blue cub would have been too close when the fireworks went off. The bears decided that it was okay for the strangers to stay with them._

_But the next day, the big, bad wolf came. He was so mad about the bears' fireworks that he decided to kill them and eat them! But when the strangers heard about the wolf's plan, they decided to help the bears by setting off some fireworks while the wolf and the fat, blustering boar and the other pigs were all with the bears. That way no one would be able to blame the bears anymore._

_The strangers stayed for a week after the fireworks party. The red cub baked a delicious chocolate cake to thank the strangers, and the silver fox who was the leader of the strangers loved it. He loved it so much he offered to take the red cub home with him, but Papa Bear wouldn't let him._

_The next night, the strangers went for a walk in the woods. The bears saw a beautiful moonbeam shine down around them, making them sparkle for a moment. And then they were gone._

"And then they were gone? That's it?" Jack was indignant.

"A moonbeam? Hmmm." Daniel was leaning forward, elbow on knee, chin in hand, thinking hard.

"I thought you'd like getting to be a 'silver fox', Sir."

"Well..." Jack appeared to be considering it for a minute before he switched topics. "So who do you think these wolves are that we've got to save General Hogan and his team from?"

"O'Neill. I do not believe that Hogan holds the rank of General in your Air Force."

"Did I say General?" Jack looked back at his team, who was now staring at him. "Uh... slip of the tongue."

"Jack."

_Dammit, of all the times for Daniel to call me on my bullshit, why now?_ "Alright, so he's not a general yet, but he will be after the war."

"You know him in our time?" Sam asked.

"Uh... in a way. And I think that we may eventually have to let him in on the fact that we've traveled through time, because when I first met him, uh, thirty years from now, he recognized me. He knew who I was, even though I was younger then. Even sort of made fun of me, asked me if I remembered the first time we met. I was flabbergasted; I mean it's not every day that the guest speaker for your advanced tactics class asks to see you after class. You don't expect for him to just come up and start asking questions about your family, telling you how if you just keep up the good work, you'll eventually have one of the two best teams he's ever seen. You don't expect him to call you by your first name and act like he's known you forever.

"You don't expect him to become like a mentor to you. You don't expect him to visit you in the hospital and commiserate with you after you've been captured and tortured and held prisoner.

Jack looked down, saddened. "He died in the mid-eighties. I think I might have seen the rest of his team then, at his funeral. Newkirk for sure; he was wearing a lieutenant's uniform instead of a corporal's and leaning on a cane and on the podium when he gave a eulogy for 'the Guv'nor', but there's no mistaking that Cockney accent of his.

"So yeah, I guess you could say that I know Hogan- Rob. As a general, he had security clearance, so I actually got to tell him about some of my missions. And some of his work was actually used as training material in some of the courses I took- you know, the ones that you have to have top secret clearance in order to take- so he figured as long as I already had the mission reports to study, he could discuss it with me. He never mentioned that he ran his sabotage missions out of a POW camp, though." Jack shuddered. "I don't know if I should be impressed that he managed to do all the crap he did- and I probably don't even know a tenth of it- or scared shitless that he somehow managed to pull all of it off _**from a POW camp**_, and I'm now stuck with the same lunatic who somehow managed to futz with the workings of the German general staff during the D-Day invasions from a POW camp." Jack sighed. "It was astounding enough to read about it and think that someone had managed to worm their way far enough into the German war machine to do that; trying to imagine General Hogan doing it as a POW- well, it just blows my mind." Jack rubbed his temples. "It's good to see him again. It is. But it's also hard, you know? Because I had to say goodbye to him fifteen years ago, and now I'm gonna have to do it all over again. And right now, he doesn't even know me. Part of me wants to pay him back for what he did- will do- and ask him about Marie and how she's doing, but I also don't want to freak him out."

"So, did you ever discuss this?" Sam had to know.

"No. As far as I knew, before last night anyway, the first time we met was in Colorado in 1976."

"So all we have to go on is what Grandpa told me." Sam sighed, disappointed.

"Hey, that's more than we had last time, right?" Daniel said, trying to cheer up his teammates, who were now looking decidedly glum.

"Indeed."

Jack looked up and cracked a smile; Sam nodded. "Yeah, I guess even if it is in some kind of silly fairy tale code, it IS a lot more than just a pair of dates."

"And we know we leave here somehow in a few weeks." Jack added. "Hopefully if we're leaving, then that means we're going to make it home."


	8. Hochstetter Goes Off

_**Chapter 8: Hochstetter Goes Off**_

As soon as their guests were in the tunnels, Hogan and his men had gathered in his office around the coffeepot. As soon as they turned it on, words began to filter through from the bug in Klink's office:

_"Schultz! Go and get Hogan, and bring him at once! I will question him most thoroughly this time!" Hochstetter snarled._

_"Schultz! Who is in command of this camp!?" Klink yelled._

_"I don't know. Who is in command?"_

_"Klink! Even if I don't outrank you, I certainly outrank that dummkopf! Now shut up! And you, get Colonel Hogan! Now!"_

"Well, looks as though Hochstetter desires my company again. Guess I'll go meet Schultz." Hogan casually zipped his bomber jacket halfway up and put on his crush cap before nonchalantly 'running into' Schultz just outside the barracks door.

"Oh hey, Schultz, what's up?"

"Colonel Hogan, please. Major Hochstetter is demanding that you come to the Kommandant's office now. Please, Colonel Hogan, please tell me you are not up to more monkey business again!"

"Me?" Hogan put on his most innocent tone. "Who has time for monkey business when you're being forced to listen to Klink drone on about the superiority of Luftwaffe planes all night while he loses at chess in spectacular fashion?"

Schultz blinked. "That is right. You_ were_ here. But then why does he want to see you?"

"Why does he ever?" quipped Hogan with his hand on the doorknob. Entering the office, he said, "Why hello there, Major Hochstetter, what can I do for you on this fine morning?" Hogan sat down in one of the chairs in front of Klink's desk.

"It is not a fine morning!" raged Hochstetter, crossing the room to loom over Hogan, waving his arm. "And you will tell me how you blew up the Westheim bridge last night, so that I can have you shot!"

"Major, I protest! I was here in camp all last night!"

"That is true, Major Hochstetter." Klink put in his two cents' worth.

"I do not believe it! And this time, I have you, Papa Bear!"

Hogan twirled his cap on one finger. "Major, how many times must we go through this? I am not this 'Papa Bear'. And you can't shoot me, because you have no proof."

"No proof?! No proof!? How's this for proof?" yelled Hochstetter, flinging something onto Klink's desk. Klink picked up the scrap of paper, looked at it, and then paled abruptly as he flung it back down on his desk.

Hochstetter cackled with glee. "You see, Klink! This time I do have proof!"

Hogan leaned closer, trying to figure out what was so special about the piece of paper. "So, you have a little scrap of paper. So what?"

"HOgan!" Hochstetter screamed as he raged around the office. "I have a piece of paper. Found among the wreckage of the bridge! With calculations on it! Calculations which my experts tell me contain the formula for explosives! Written in English! And on the other side, it is addressed to someone here at Stalag 13!" Hochstetter punched the wall for emphasis. When he turned around, he began speaking in a more normal tone of voice, although not without a smug sneer. "And do you know what that means, Hogan? It means I have you. I know that you are Papa Bear, and now you are going to pay for it."

Hogan had tried very hard not to react to what was on the paper, but he figured any surprise that the Germans might have seen on his face was justifiable. _Thank God Klink made me play chess with him last night!_ He sighed inwardly, hoping he wasn't sweating. _And I never thought I'd ever have reason to think that!_ "I'm sorry, Major, but no matter what you think you have, you don't have me. I was here last night, playing chess with the Kommandant, and Colonel Klink can vouch for me. I was here, in the Kommandant's office, until late last night."

"Bah! Then it is one of the other prisoners! I will question them all!"

"Major, may I remind you, we have never had an escape from Stalag 13! None of prisoners could have done this, because they are all still here."

"Klink! Shut up! That piece of paper _proves_ it was someone in this camp that blew up the bridge last night!"

"Well, then, maybe you should question the guards, Major. After all, it's not like the Iron Colonel gives _**us**_ a pass into town."

"Get off my side, Hogan..." muttered Klink.

"Ja, maybe I will do that," said Hochstetter. "After all, what could be better than exposing Papa Bear and all his men except lining up all the other dummkopfs here for the firing squad as well!"

"Firing squad?" Klink's monocle fell out of his eye.

"Ja, I will surround this camp with a ring of steel! I will question everyone! And then I will shoot everyone!" Hochstetter ranted, before laughing maniacly.

Suddenly the door burst open and Schultz ran through, knocking Hochstetter to the floor, by way of the stove. "Kommandant! Herr Kommandant! I beg to report, there is a fight! A large fight! A riot!"

"What?" Klink gasped.

"The prisoners, they are rioting! Barracks 12 and barracks 16, and maybe some of barracks 19, too!"

"Well, what are you standing around here for? Go break it up!"

"But Kommandant..."

"Not to worry, Schultz, I'll take care of this," said Hogan as he walked out the door.

Both Germans stared at where the American officer had been for a few seconds before following him out into the compound.

From behind the door, Hochstetter groaned.


	9. The Heroes Meet in Hogan's Room

_**Author's Notes:**_

_First, I would just like to take a minute to thank all of the wonderful readers who encouraged me to keep going with this, even when I hadn't posted an update in months. I want to thank all of my wonderful reviewers, who have so buoyed my spirits with their praise. And I would like to thank everyone who has added the story to their favorites or alerts list. Guys, this is for you._

_And because it has been so long between chapters, you will be getting not one, not two, not even three chapters... you will be getting SEVEN! And some rather large rewrites in places. So please enjoy the new stuff, and keep those reviews and PMs coming._

_**Chapter 9: The Heroes Meet in Hogan's Room**_

Hogan went into his quarters and sat heavily on the bed. LeBeau, Kinch, Carter, and Newkirk followed him and took positions around the room, sitting or leaning on the furniture. "Whew!" Hogan wiped his brow, and then leaned on his knee. "That diversion was good thinking, guys."

"Well, Guv'nor, we couldn't just leave you in there with Hochstetter going on about shooting everyone in camp."

"How bad is it, Colonel?" asked Kinch. "Did you get a good look at his 'evidence'?"

"Better than that," replied Hogan, reaching into his pocket. "Those lessons from Newkirk really paid off today- I light-fingered this right off his desk when Shultz came in yelling, without any of them even noticing." He held up a tattered scrap of paper, its edges burned black.

Carter paled as he recognized the writing on the paper. "Oh, boy, Colonel, I sure am sorry."

Hogan raised an eyebrow. "I don't have to tell you how serious this is, Carter. Even though I have the original, it's entirely possible that the Germans have taken pictures of this. They could bring in an expert, take writing samples from everyone and then compare them." He paused. "Would you care to explain how you left this outside the fence?"

Andrew reached forward, took the piece of paper in his hand, and flipped it over to look at the other side. He gulped. "This must be part of the envelope. I forgot I had it in my pocket." Carter looked at his feet guiltily. "I got a letter from my sister yesterday at mail call and took it downstairs with me to read. But I used the envelope to write on while I was working on formula permutations yesterday afternoon, so that I could try to increase the yield from our explosives."

"It looks as though you've burnt it."

"I think that must have happened last night. It must have fallen out of my pocket when I got thrown to the ground by that explosion. Maybe something landed on it, I don't know. But I sure am sorry, boy. I mean, Colonel." Carter looked mournfully at the floor, too ashamed to meet his CO's eyes. "I know this could mean the end of the operation."

"Well, let's not close up shop just yet." Hogan reaffirmed. "It doesn't have your name on it- in fact, it doesn't have any marks that even identify it as belonging to a prisoner; all that's left of the address is 'Stalag 13'." 

"Are you going to put it back, Colonel?"

"No, that'd be too suspicious. Better the Krauts think that they lost it or that someone took it off of Klink's desk when we all rushed out to quell the riot." Hogan paused for a moment, rubbing his chin. "Speaking of which, I was really surprised old Hochstetter didn't come out after me with Klink and Schultz."

LeBeau chortled happily. "He had to be carried to his car- he was unconscious!"

"Unconscious?" asked Hogan, startled. "How did that happen?"

"The guards were not sure, but he was found behind the door in Klink's office."

Hogan smirked. "So when Shultz ran him over, he actually knocked him out? You should make him some strudel."

"Perhaps I will! Perhaps I will even make enough for all of us, so that we may celebrate Hochstetter's injury!" gushed LeBeau.

"Yeah, well we just better make sure we know what we're celebrating. Who knows, they might even replace him with someone worse."

"Worse? Blimey, who could possibly be worse than Hochstetter?" asked Newkirk.

"Maybe it'll just be temporary, and he'll be back tomorrow or later this week to get on our nerves again," Kinch added.

"Hey! Maybe he'll get amnesia and forget the whole thing!" exclaimed Carter brightly.

"Not likely, mate," Newkirk replied.

"It could happen! Schultz is a big guy!" LeBeau jumped in on Carter's side.

"Nah, Newkirk's right. We couldn't get _that_ lucky," Hogan said, crossing his arms. "What we need is a plan. A plan to make it obvious, once and for all, even to Hochstetter, that I am not behind all of the sabotage in this area."

"And how we going to do that, Gov'nor?"

"I'm not sure yet, but it may involve our guests."

None of his men doubted that the plan would be successful when they noticed the gleam in Hogan's eyes.


	10. Moonbeams and Explosives

_**Chapter 10: Moonbeams and Explosives**_

"So, what do you think this 'moon beam' is?" Sam asked Daniel.

"I have no idea," answered Daniel.

"Colonel?"

"Jack," he corrected, knowing very well she wanted his opinion and wanting to dodge the question. "While we're here, I'm Jack. You're Sam. 'Carter' is Andrew, and 'Colonel' is Hogan. Remember?"

"Okay," Sam drug the word out, "what do you think this 'moon beam' is, _**Jack**_?"

"No clue. Unless the aliens of RZQ-132 realized they screwed up and come back for us."

Sam contemplated that suggestion. "I guess it's possible. Teal'c?"

"I am unaware of any technologies that could be described as a 'moon beam', Major Carter."

"Well, it's not literal, Teal'c. You have to think in poetic terms, here. Just like a death glider's weapons might be described as 'lightning bolts' because they're harmful energy from the sky."

"I would not describe Goa'uld weapons as 'moonbeams' under any circumstances. Even if I were writing a poem."

Jack tried not to laugh at the idea of Teal'c writing a poem.

Sam harrumphed, stumped.

"Maybe it's a ring device," Jack threw out.

"They do look like a white beam of light from far away," conceded Daniel.

"And we are supposed to disappear into it," agreed Sam.

"So, if we're getting ringed away from here, we don't need to worry about our exit strategy. We can focus on helping Hogan."

"What about finding the ring platform, sir?"

Jack shrugged. "I thought if a ship had a set of rings, you didn't have to have them on the ground. After all, there've been plenty of times we've used the rings without the platform."

"Name one, Jack," Daniel challenged in a doubtful tone of voice.

"Well, let's see. There was the time the Tok'ra beamed us on board their ship during the evacuation, and the time Teal'c and I took that leap of faith out of the X-301..."

"Okay, sir, point taken. A ring platform, although helpful, is not absolutely necessary. So we can focus on helping Colonel Hogan."

"And how are we doing that?" queried Daniel.

"Blowing something up for him, I think," Sam said.

"What, blowing up a mother ship wasn't enough for you, Major?" asked Jack, forgetting his own rule about using names at Stalag 13.

"What's this?" said a voice from the doorway. "Blowing up a ship? Whose mother's ship? When?"

"Uh..." Sam groped for words, unaware anyone had been approaching their underground room.

"Not that long ago, but you won't hear about it," Daniel said, pushing his glasses further up on his nose.

"And it's classified," added Jack, sure that would stop Carter from asking any more questions.

"Was it a big explosion?" the sergeant asked eagerly.

"Very." Sam smirked, thinking it might just be possible that her Grandpa was a lot more interested in blowing things up when he was younger.

"What did you use? Was it very volatile? Did you make it yourself?" queried Andrew. He rushed on without giving her a chance to answer, "I've been experimenting with different materials. Sometimes I have trouble controlling the viscosity. Do you ever have that problem?"

"Uhh..." _Oh, yeah, he was definitely more interested in blowing things up as a youngster,_ Sam thought. "I usually don't have to make my own explosives."

"Oh, that's too bad." Andrew looked crestfallen for a moment. Then he brightened. "Would you like to try it out? It's really fun!"

"Um," Sam looked at her teammates; _wouldn't that be going against the idea of not affecting things? _

Jack gave her a friendly push. "Go for it Sam! You can't just sit on this cot like a bump for a few weeks!"

Sam grinned widely as she and Andrew started to leave the room. Just a few seconds later, though, Andrew popped his head back into the room they were in.

"I'm sorry, sir, I completely forgot that I was coming to get you! Colonel Hogan would like to see you upstairs."

Before they could reply, he'd ducked back out of the room. As the other three members of SG-1 started to go upstairs, they heard the two Carters chattering animatedly about chemicals further down the tunnel.

When they got to the part of the tunnel where the ladder came down, Daniel and Jack found themselves staring at each other's perplexed faces.

"Do you know how to get the ladder down and the top up?"

"Nope," Jack replied. "You?"

"Nope."

"Teal'c?"

"I am unaware of how this mechanism functions, O'Neill."

"Guess we'll just have to wait then."

"How long, do you suppose?"

"Not too long; if Rob wants to talk to us, or to me, he'll probably send someone else to find us if we don't show up pretty soon."

"Okay. So, do you really think that's it? That all we have to do is blow something up?"

"I think it's going to boil down to some very precise timing," Jack answered.

"Indeed," agreed Teal'c.

"We don't just want to blow something up," Jack continued. "We want to do it when we can alibi Hogan, too."

"Oh, that makes more sense."

The three men waited in silence for a few minutes.

"So," Daniel asked his natural curiosity exerting itself, "Do you think that Hogan would let us take a tour of this place? I haven't seen much, but from the hints that you and Sam have been dropping, it's bound to be a pretty interesting place. Equipping escaping POWs and defectors to go back to England, sabotage, an-"

He stopped speaking abruptly and ducked to the side to avoid being hit as the ladder swung down against the wall. Looking up, they saw Newkirk starting to swing himself over the edge of the bunk.

"Is there a way to do that from down here?"

Newkirk froze with one leg on the ladder and one leg on the floor in the barracks. He looked down at the three men just as Jack waved up at him.

"Uh, you just bang twice... and we'll open it from up here," he stammered. " Where's Carter? He was supposed to bring you up; the Guv'nor wants to see you."

"He took Sam off to play with explosives," Daniel offered helpfully as he climbed up the ladder.

Newkirk grinned. "Ruddy fool. First bird we've seen in at least two months, and he drags her off to talk about blowing things up." He rolled his eyes. "Let's just hope it's just talk, because if he starts fiddling with his bleedin' potions and blows her up, I'm going to be right upset."

"Don't worry," Jack assured the Englander. "Carter won't let him blow up anything they don't mean to blow up."

"Wot's that?"

"Carter- uh, Sam, knows her way around explosives well enough to make sure nobody gets blown up," clarified Jack.

"She likes explosives? Blimey, she's as crazy as he is! Here now, Colonel," Newkirk said with a wave of his hand at the door, "Colonel Hogan said you can just walk right on in." Turning to the other two, he added, "And perhaps I could convince the two of you to play me another hand or three of poker, eh?"

"Why not?" answered Daniel as he took a spot at the table.


	11. Rothman's Report

_**Chapter 11: Rothman's Report**_

"Well, Mr. Rothman, tell me you've got some answers for me as to what happened to our people after they were returned to Earth fifty-some years ago."

Rothman sniffled. "Well, it seems to me that the most likely thing for them to do would be to lay low and try to minimize any effects, especially any negative effects, that their presence here on Earth might have on the timeline. And apparently, sir, uh, they're, uh,'" He snuffled again before wiping his nose with a handkerchief, "they're very good at it, uh, sir."

"What in the blue blazes is that supposed to mean?" demanded Hammond, his volume rising.

"Um... what it means is that... um... I haven't been able to find anything to indicate where they were dropped off. Or...um, well, anything that even really acknowledges their presence here at all during the forties, sir. I even checked the old Stargate data, to see if they used it to... (sniff...) to get home, but there's nothing there."

"Then you'd better keep looking, Mr. Rothman. We're not going to give up on them."

"Sir," Rothman said, sniffing again as Hammond turned to leave, "the fact that my team can't find anything about when and where they arrived, despite checking all the military records for that time period, might be taken to suggest..."

"Suggest what?" Hammond demanded when Rothman trailed off.

"It suggests that they didn't show up in any of the Allied countries. They were in uniform, General, and even if they'd shown up in Africa or England or even Australia, the Air Force would have record of it, and they'd probably have been shipped back to the States. Even if they were suspected of being plants or spies, there'd still be records of them. So the implication is, they must have been brought back to one of the..."

"Axis countries," breathed Hammond. "Where wearing a US Air Force uniform would be like painting a target on your back."

"Yes," said Rothman seriously. "And so far, we haven't found any mention of them in the records we've been able to gain access to. That doesn't mean that there isn't any record of them; there may be more records that we can gain access to through other means."

"But it's also possible that even if there ever was a record of them, it's been destroyed already. Especially if they were sent to one of the camps- many of them managed to destroy a large portion of their records." Hammond sighed heavily. "If they survived everything else since we opened the gate only to die in a German prison camp in World War Two, that would be..."

"Ironic," concluded Rothman.

"I was going to say, 'Tragic'," Hammond finished.

"It's also possible that we do have a record of them somewhere, and we just haven't realized it."

"What is that supposed to mean? How could you see their names on a page and not realize it was them?"

"Have you ever spoken to Colonel O'Neill about his interrogation when they were sent back to 1969, sir?"

"No. What does that have to do with this?"

"Sergeant Falcon managed to get in touch with a retired Colonel Robert Thornberg, sir- he was the one who performed the interrogation- and interviewed him hoping for clues on how they would have acted when sent back to the past this time."

"And?" The impatience was audible in Hammond's voice.

"They never gave their real names, sir. Colonel O'Neill claimed to be Luke Skywalker and Captain James T. Kirk. Names that we recognize as being false, but that the Thornberg passed without comment in the 60's because the fictional characters hadn't even been invented yet."

Falcon interrupted from where he was sitting, several seats down the briefing table. "He was pretty shocked when he dug out his journal and saw those names now, though, sir... and I wouldn't be too shocked if he comes nosing around despite the Top Secret-Need to Know-National Security lecture I gave him, sir."

Hammond nodded, before turning to face Rothman again as he continued.

"That's why our search team has broadened the list of names we're searching for to include James Kirk; Luke Skywalker; Homer, Marge, Bart, and Lisa Simpson; Leia Organa; Obi-Wan Kenobi; Han Solo; Spock, Leonard McCoy; and a host of other fictional characters that they may or may not use as pseudonyms in order to leave us a breadcrumb trail."

"It could take years to sift through the data for all of the possible names like that."

"We're trying to concentrate on the team's favorite shows and movies, but also keeping a general eye out for anything that stands out."

"But the truth is, we may never know if they died behind enemy lines, in a prison camp, or even lived happily in the back woods of Minnesota after having given false names and escaped Allied custody." The general sighed heavily and rubbed his bald pate. "What am I going to tell Jacob?"

"There's one other possibility my team came up with. If they did find themselves in Axis territory, they may have been able to get in touch with the Underground and that's why there's no record of them, either because they joined the Underground and helped fight the Germans, or were smuggled out of the country."

"Sir," interrupted an airman from the doorway, "there's someone upstairs I think you should speak to."

"About what?" asked Hammond brusquely.

"Sir, there's an officer at the gate requesting to speak with you, sir. He says he has information about SG-1, sir."

"Lead the way," Hammond gestured with an arm.


	12. Conversations, Interrupted and Insane

_**Chapter 12**_

_**Conversations, Interrupted and Insane**_

"You rang?" snarked Jack as he walked through Hogan's door.

"What's that?" asked Hogan, confused. "Oh, never mind. Have a seat. I have something to discuss with you, and a favor to ask you."

"You want my team to sabotage something," Jack said quietly.

Hogan was flabbergasted. "How could you possibly know that?"

Jack smirked. "I have my sources. A little birdie told me that that not only is it important that we help you out by blowing something up for you, we need to be sure to coordinate the time to alibi you."

"So you know about Hochstetter?"

"Actually, not really. Although if the reaction to his presence earlier was any indication, he's bad news."

"Saying Hochstetter is bad news is almost lying by understatement. Our friendly neighborhood Gestapo chief would like nothing better than to kill me... and he still doesn't have any proof that I've ever done anything. I sometimes think he's offended by the very idea of the existence of people who disagree with Nazi ideals."

"So he's on the warpath and doesn't care about having evidence. I thought that was a requirement for a Gestapo commission." Jack shrugged. "So what's been holding him back, if he's been out for your blood?"

"Surprisingly enough, our kommandant."

"_Our _kommandant?"

"Well, Klink may be wishy-washy and easy to intimidate, but it definitely counts in his favor that one of the easiest buttons for me to push with him is the Geneva Commission. He's actually not a bad sort, for a German officer. He tries to run this prison camp as humanely and fairly as possible; he doesn't want any of the prisoners under his care to be mistreated, let alone killed. And those of us in the operation have come to understand just how vital he is to our success: if he was ever replaced by someone smart enough to pass a bookkeeping exam or even a touch more militaristic, we'd be sunk. which is why we have, on occasion, saved Klink's bacon. Every time they try to send him to the Russian Front, we find a way to keep him around... even if it's having him lead a suicide squad to the Russian Front."

Jack's eyebrows nearly hit the rafters at that comment, but he decided to ignore it... after all, this _was_ the man responsible for running one of the most successful sabotage and escape centers in the history of warfare- from within a prison camp! (That bit of information was still blowing his mind.) Nothing was impossible for _him._ But it still stuck in his craw that they would consider the kommandant almost part of their team, even risk their lives to save him.

Jack cleared his throat. "I still can't believe you call him _your_ kommandant."

"Sure, he's _ours_ just like Felix is _our _pet mouse."

Jack grinned widely. "So he's our _pet_ kommandant?"

"That about sums it up." Hogan grinned back at him. "And him being a spineless suck-up that changes his mind whenever General Burkhalter or another one of the brass speaks to him sums up why it's a miracle he's held out against Hochstetter this long. Of course, I don't think it would have worked if we hadn't convinced him so many times to call Burkhalter in, knowing that we could use his ego as a defense against grabby Gestapo trying to get anyone they can." Hogan put on his best blustering manner and shouted, "You dare to question the authority of a General of the Third Reich? Then perhaps I shall have to have a conversation with my personal friend, Reichsmarschall Himmler!"

Jack chuckled, but Hogan shrugged self-effacingly. "Kinch and Newkirk actually both do a better impression, but you get the idea."

"So when will be a good time to set up your..." Jack never finished the question, because Hogan held up his hand for silence as soon as the outer barracks door was thrown open and a voice he knew all too well yelled, "Colonel Hogan!"

"Klink!" Hogan whispered warningly. Waving Jack out of sight, he pasted on a smile and tugged the bottom of his bomber jacket down before flinging his door open wide and strolling casually out.

"You screamed, Kommandant?"

"I did not scream!" Klink swished his riding crop. "Now, I told you you could handle sorting out the troublemakers this morning, but I did not give you leave to let them go unpunished!"

"Unpunished? What do you mean, Kommandant?"

"Hogan! You know that the punishment for fighting is thirty days in the cooler! You told me you would find out who the guilty parties were! Now I want their names, and I want those men thrown in the cooler now!"

In Hogan's office, Jack bit back a chuckle, thinking _The kommandant sounds more like a whiny child who didn't get his story than a stern commander chiding someone for not carrying out his orders! _

"But Kommandant," said Hogan reasonably, "The men weren't fighting, they were having a discussion."

"At the top of their voices?!" Klink gaped, then shook his fist in the other officer's face. "Hogannnnn, they were rioting, and you know it!"

"Well, there you have it, Kommandant," soothed the American colonel. "If they were rioting, they obviously weren't fighting."

"What? Of course they were fighting!"

"Now, Kommandant, you have to make up your mind. Were they fighting or rioting?"

"Hogannnnnn!"

"It wasn't a riot, sir. Really. The men were merely involved in a vigorous protest of Hochstetter's persistent and unfair accusations of wrongdoing by the prisoners."

"How could the other prisoners possibly be aware of any accusations Hochstetter was making when he was in my office and they were outside, and halfway across the camp?"

"Oh, please, kommandant. Every time Hochstetter..."

"That's Major Hochstetter to you, Hogan," interrupted Klink.

"Fine. Every time _Major _Hochstetter comes to camp, it's the same old thing: "Hogan, you are a traitor and a spy, and I'm going to shoot you." Never mind the fact that if I was a spy, I could hardly be considered a traitor, as I'd just be doing my civic duty in wartime. The men know what it means when the staff car with the Gestapo flags pulls into camp. They were merely trying to stand up for me."

"For you? Why should they stand up for you?"

"Well, Kommandant, if they see you as a father figure, I'm the likeable older brother, don't you know?"

"Hmmm. I don't know about all this, Hogan. It still seems fishy to me. Even if they do see you as an older brother, why should they riot over some accusations?'

"Kommandant, didn't you see what happened? As soon as I explained that you stood up for us against that Gestapo maniac, they were happy to go back to their barracks."

"Still, if the prisoners wish to lodge a protest, they should do so in an orderly fashion. This rioting was uncalled for!"

"That's why I set a punishment for them, Kommandant."

"A punishment! What Punishment?! They're out there playing ball as we speak! You didn't even restrict them to barracks!"

"Kommandant! I'm shocked! Didn't you realize that I set the most horrendous punishment I could think of? I made them switch positions! Don't you realize how awful it is to watch the left fielder trying to play shortstop and dropping the ball every time it comes his way? How awful it is to see the catcher trying to throw the ball in from right field only to have it continually fall short? To see your-third base coach pitching so many balls from the mound that that your infielders are playing the fouls just for change of pace? It's one step short of torture!"

Klink narrowed his eyes. "I'm disinclined to agree with that assessment; they seem to be enjoying themselves at the moment."

"They only laugh to keep from crying, Kommandant."

"Hmmmph!" Klink shook his fist in the air. "I do not consider this suitable punishment, Hogan, and if anything of this sort ever happens again, I will not only throw everyone I see in the cooler, I will throw you in there as well! And I will throw away the key!" With that, Klink turned and stalked out of the barracks.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, laughter engulfed the barracks.

"Oh, thank God!" Daniel said between laughs, "I don't know how much longer I could have gone without laughing!"

"It is hard to keep a straight face sometimes, innit?" asked Newkirk, chuckling himself. "Although after a bit, you do get used to the way the Colonel talks the kommandant into knots." He looked across the table at Teal'c's impassive face. "Didn't you find that the least bit funny, mate? You're not even smiling!"

"It's a skill," commented Jack as he joined them in the common room. "He's had lots of time practicing the art of not laughing in the face of a pompous buffoon."

"Oh?" inquired Hogan.

"Well, you don't think Teal'c was born American, do you? He's a naturalized citizen."

"So?" Andrew was in the dark.

"His former boss- or should I say king- was an overdressed windbag, but liked to torture and kill people if they didn't worship him as a god," Jack explained. "So we all count it as a victory if one of our jokes even makes him crack a smile."

"Blimey."

"You can say that again, boy."

The door banged open again and Schultz swept in. "Boys! The kommandant thinks you were laughing at him! That is not very nice!" He paused a minute before continuing in a quieter and more confused tone, "You weren't really laughing at the kommandant, were you?"

"Course not, Schultzie! We were laughing at the Guv'nor!"

"Oh. That is alright, then. Ach du liebe, what am I saying? Colonel Hogan, please do not be angry with me," Schultz pled, turning puppy dog eyes on the American officer.

"It's okay, Schultz," Hogan replied affably. "I was laughing, too. Did you need something?"

"Well... well, uh...the kommandant thought you were laughing at him. He said to tell you that your whole barracks will not get an outside exercise period today as punishment for being so disrespectful."

A few airmen started to protest, but Hogan held his hands up for quiet. "Okay, Schultz. Anything else?"

"Nein. That is all he said to me."

"Okay, thanks for letting us know, Schultz." He clapped a hand on the guard's shoulder. "Guess we'll just have to go outside the wire to play our ballgame today, guys."

"Colonel Hogan, no! Please do not go outside the wire! It would be worth my life-"

"Alright, Schultz. We won't do it. We wouldn't want to get you in any trouble."

"Oh, thank you, Colonel Hogan!"

"But that means we have to find something else to do during our rec period." Newkirk leaned back and crossed his arms contemplatively. "Oy, mates, what do you think we should do during our rec period, since we can't go outside?"

"I think we should play with the dogs!" said Floyd.

"Or maybe have a game of darts, and see who can get the Fuehrer in the eye," suggested Slim.

"Why settle for darts? I think we should have Carter and Newkirk make us bows to shoot Klink with through the window!" Beauchamp proposed.

"Do you want to get sent to the cooler?" asked Foster incredulously. "I think we should dig a new tunnel!"

"Thanks for volunteering," Hogan said.

"Colonel, he was joking- weren't you Foster?- What we should really do is have LeBeau make us a pizza!" Garlotti yelled.

"Hey chum," Newkirk nudged Daniel's arm, "You're new here, what do you think we should do during our rec period, since we can't go outside?"

"I don't know," said Daniel, confused as to why Newkirk would draw attention to him when he was trying not to be noticed by the guard. "Uh, pizza and darts..."

"Colonel Hogan, who is this man?" whined Shultz, pointing to Daniel and then looking around the room in horror. "And this one? And that one over there? And where is Carter? Pleasssse, Colonel Hogan, do not be getting up to any monkey business when the kommandant is already angry with you."

"Aw, come on, Schultz, we've got to find something to do, if we can't go outside," said LeBeau to the guard.

"Please, Strudel, do not do it! Cook something, or read a book, or even play cards, even though it is against the rules, just do not be starting any trouble!" Schultz looked from man to man, silently imploring each of them to be good. "Colonel Hogan, pleasssse!"

"Alright, Schultz," assented Hogan. "We won't get into any trouble if Klink stays away from our barracks. Because what he doesn't know won't hurt him," he added with a grin.

"Oh Colonel Hogan, please, get rid of these new men and get Carter back right away!"

"Sure, Shultz." Hogan waved his hand at the bunk where the tunnel entrance was concealed. "Okay, fellas, you heard Schultz, somebody needs to go get Carter out of the tunnel right away!"

"The tunnel... ach du liebe, I hear nothing, I see nothing, I know nothing!" said Shultz, his volume increasing as he backed away, until the last line was shouted as he practically fell out of the door backwards.


	13. Bed Check

_**Chapter 13: Bed Check**_

AN: _This scene was almost deleted, because does nothing to advance the plot. But it was just too much fun to resist..._

"Is it safe to come in?" asked Schultz, peeking through a crack in the doorway.

"Of course it's safe, Schultz! When is it not safe to come in?"

"I mean, is everyone here that is supposed to be here? And no one is here who should not be here?" the German sergeant whispered. "I am supposed to do a bed check."

"Well, there is that one dame still talking to Carter about explosives, but you don't mind that, do ya, Schultzie?" said Newkirk lightly.

"No. I mean yes! You are not supposed to have women in the barracks! Das est verboten!" Schultz yelled.

"Oh, das est verboten, das es verboten," chorused several of the guys among themselves, nodding their heads.

"Hey!" teased Kinch from across the room, "that sounds like German! what does 'Das est verboten' mean, Schultz?"

"It means you are not allowed to do this!" said Schultz, pointing at Sam.

"I find that remark highly insulting," said Newkirk broadly, putting his hands on his hips. "And I resent the insinuation that any of us here would ever attempt to 'do' the major without her permission."

"They'd be a fool to try," Daniel remarked casually from where he was curled up on Kinch's bunk reading a novel in German.

"Do her?" asked Schultz, who had completely lost the thread of the conversation. "What does that mean?"

"Well, you know, Schultzie..." Newkirk gave the guard a knowing look. "You're married, ain't ya? And you must know where babies come from, you've already had five of them."

"You mean..." Schultz gestured with a finger as he put the pieces together. "You mean... you... she... Newkirk! You should not say such things in front of a lady!"

"Which means it's fine to say them here, Newkirk," piped up Sam. "I ceased being a lady and became 'just one of the guys' a long time ago."

Schultz shook his head. "Das est not true! I can tell you are a lady just by looking at you!"

"Remind me to tell my dad that, Daniel," Sam said. "He's been concerned that I'm too butch since I was six years old, and blames himself for me not turning out to be 'a girl'."

Newkirk chuckled. "Blimey, what does he think you turned out to be, then?"

"The smartest astrophysicist in the world, and way too smart to be stuck in 'radar telemetry'," Sam said, putting air quotes around the last two words. "I still can't believe he tried to get me transferred without even asking me first!"

"I... can," commented Schultz. "I would very much like for you to be transferred _back_ to wherever you _came _from."

"Why on earth would you wanna do a thing like that?" asked Andrew Carter. "I like having her here. Did you know she showed me how to fix the viscosity problem with my explosives? And she's really nice to talk to." He smiled broadly.

"Explosives? Why are you using explosives? You would not try to blow something up?"

"No. Not in camp anyway," Andrew replied seriously.

"Only not in camp," moaned Schultz. "You are up to monkey business, blowing things up and leaving camp."

"No, no, you've got it all wrong, Schultzie" interrupted Sam, gesturing to herself and Daniel. "We're leaving camp and blowing stuff up."

"Oh. Das est okay. Schultz shrugged and headed out the door.

A minute later, the door opened and Schultz popped his head in again. "I forgot to make the count."

The POWs laughed. "We're all still bloody here," Newkirk told him merrily.

"We're even four over, remember?" Carter added helpfully.

"I see nothing!" Shultz announced as he closed the door again.


	14. Idea Machine

_the following day..._

_**Chapter Fourteen: Idea Machine**_

"Have you heard from our contact in the underground, the nurse, yet?" Hogan asked as he dropped down off of the ladder and walked over to Baker, who was taking a shift on the radio.

"Not yet, Colonel," came the reply. "I'll let you know as soon as Songbird gets back to me about when Hochstetter'll be out of the hospital."

"Thanks, Baker."

Hogan meandered down the tunnel to where Jack, Sam, Daniel, Teal'c, Kinch, Newkirk, Carter, and LeBeau were lounging on cots and bouncing ideas off each other. Leaning against the wall, he listened to their latest suggestions.

"You've given a birthday party for Hitler... how about one for Goering, or Himmler?" Sam threw out.

Kinch shot that one down. "No important birthdays to use."

"I know!" Andrew raised his hand in excitement. "Why don't we convince them the war is over again?"

"We've already done that, Carter." Newkirk pushed the other man's cap down. "Don't you think the Krauts might suspect that it was fake if we tried it again?"

"Oh..." Carter's voice trailed off.

"Anniversary of Klink taking command?" Jack suggested.

"You kidding? The old Iron eagle actually caught on the last time we tried that! He ruddy looked up the date and then told us we were four months off!" Newkirk answered.

"Yeah! And he shot up our pistachio ice cream, too!" Carter added.

"Come up with any good excuse ideas we can use to get Hochstetter and Burkhalter to both come be here at the same time yet?" asked Hogan nonchalantly as he entered the conversation.

"Not yet," several people answered at once.

"But we're working on it. We're sure we can think of something. Kinch says one time you got away with having a party to celebrate 'repeal of Prohibition day'. I'm sure we can think of something at least that good." Jack asserted. "But so far the only thing we've been able to come up with that's even remotely possible is to use Carter- excuse me, Sam- as a decoy to somehow lure the General and the Gestapo here. The problem is, she'd have to be leading both of them on, which puts her in a pretty bad position if one or the other of them decides to get possessive. Also, I'd feel better about having her along when we go blow up the bridge... our team works better when we're not down a man. So we're trying to come up with a different idea."

"Without much luck," Daniel added.

"I've got it!" Carter stood up, grinning madly. "You tell Hochstetter you're celebrating the anniversary of the first time he accused you of being Papa Bear, and the wish on your cake is that he have many more years of not being able to prove it!

"Bloody hell, Carter. Is that the best you can do? You might as well confess it outright and pray for leniency as rub Hochstetter's nose in it like that!"

Jack leaned back against the wall. "Maybe Andrew's right: we need to think bigger, further out of the box."

Sam leaned forward. "Sir, have you got an idea?"

"Maybe. I think we need to appeal to a different part of their psyche. Trying to think of party ideas is hard because the Nazi sense of fun doesn't run very deep."

"What are you thinking, Jack?" asked Daniel.

"Greed," smirked Sam. "Most people've got a price, but who'd pass up the chance to make a quick buck?"

"I like it." Newkirk smiled. "Remember the Burkhalter- Klink- Hogan Oil Company?"

"What is the Burkhalter-Klink-Hogan Oil Company?" asked Teal'c in a grave tone.

"A scam we played on the Germans a while back," explained Hogan. "We dug a fake tunnel and filled it with oil from one of the barrels they had stored. Completely convinced them that they were sitting on an oil reservoir, and that after the war, they should buy the camp cheap to drill. And in order to keep the oil from being discovered, they could not let this camp be used as a Luftwaffe rest camp or remodeled to be used as a war materiel factory."

"And it worked?" Daniel asked incredulously.

"Like a bleeding charm," answered Newkirk.

"So, Colonel, how do you propose we appeal to their greedy nature?" queried Hogan.

Jack smiled, closing one eye halfway in a sardonic look, and leaned forward to expound upon his plan.

"Well, to make this work, we'd have to be able to forge transfer papers for a new "guard" to be transferred in. Is that possible, without arousing suspicion?"

"T'ain't nothin' to it, sir," Newkirk answered. "We're old hands at forging papers now."

"We'll also need to get in touch with the Black Market in the area. Either that, or we have to figure out a way to make our own fake pottery ..."

"Does it matter what it looks like?" Kinch asked

"It just needs to be able to convince the Germans that it's the real deal," answered Jack.

"So, no," Hogan asserted. "Klink can't even tell the difference between a valuable antique and a factory knock-off, as we proved in that little escapade with the cuckoo clocks."


	15. New Arrival

_the next afternoon..._

_**Chapter Fifteen: New Arrival**_

No one seemed to notice the young man in German uniform who drove into camp on a motorcycle the next day. The gate guards barely even glanced at his papers, and the guards and prisoners in the compound continued with their patrols and volleyball game as if he wasn't even there.

No one seemed to notice him as he parked the bike and walked up the steps into the Kommandatur.

Of course, no one noticed the two colonels keeping watch on the new arrival through the shutters of the window of Barracks 2, either. No one saw them head for Hogan's office to listen in via the coffeepot when the soldier closed the Kommandatur door.

"I still think it should have been me in there," complained Jack. "This is too dangerous, using one of your men like this. What happens if your guard mentions something at roll call, or one of the other guards recognizes him?"

Hogan raised an eyebrow, reminding Jack of the conversation in the tunnel the night before when he laid out his plan.

_"Jack, you know it's got to be me who does this. My language skills will be crucial to carrying this charade off!" Daniel argued loudly._

_"You know, you're not the only one on the planet who speaks German," Jack shot back with equal vehemence, while Hogan and his men shot glances at Sam and Teal'c, as if to ask, 'Is this normal for them?'_

_"You speak German?" Daniel asked incredulously._

_"Yes, Daniel, I do. Quite well, actually. I was stationed at Rhein Mein for over six years, with frequent missions into East Germany."_

_"Well, that's great, Jack, but I still think that I should be the one to go in and not you. You're going to need someone who's good at talking their way out of stuff, and let's face it, Jack: You only ever talk yourself into more trouble."_

_"Oh, for crying out loud!"_

_"You know I'm right. You're too mouthy. Our captor asks our names, you tell him we're the Three Stooges. General Hammond told me you even once asked him for permission to beat the crap out of Mayborne. That's not diplomatic, and it's not what we need in this situation."_

_"How would you know what we'll need? It was my plan!"_

_"And it's a good plan, Jack, but it depends on Klink not getting suspicious. And even he'll be suspicious of a corporal with as many grays as you've got."_

_"What?"_

_"You're too old for the rank, Jack. Besides, I wouldn't think you'd want the demotion anyways."_

_"Wouldn't count. Not my army." Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter, though, Daniel! Because in order for this to work, you've got to come in later! You can't come in later as an archeological expert if you've already been introduced to Klink as his newest guard!"_

_"Fellas, pipe down a bit, would you?" Hogan asked. "Now, with Klink, it probably wouldn't actually make any difference if Daniel played both parts, but his adjutant is slightly sharper on the uptake."_

_"And that's not saying much; a rusty butter knife is sharper than the ol' iron eagle," laughed Newkirk._

_Hogan gave him a quelling glance before continuing. "That said, Jack, Daniel has a point. You're far too old to be able to pass as a corporal. Which is why I'll be loaning you one of my men for this operation."_

_"Colonel? Are you sure that's a good idea? What if one of the guards recognizes him?"_

_"To minimize the chances of that, we're going to use someone from our own barracks. That way, if Schultz does recognize Olsen, we'll at least know he won't say anything."_

_"But Colonel, Olsen's been here over two years! What if one of the other guards recognizes him?"_

_"Carter, the only guards who get close enough to us to learn any of our names aside from the ones they're responsible for are Schultz and Langenscheidt. And we know neither of them will talk. If you don't believe me, just ask LeBeau about our last trip to Paris."_

Helga's voice drifting out of the coffeepot brought Jack back to the present. "There is a corporal to see you, Herr Kommandant."

"I'm much too busy, Fraulein Helga. Have him report to Schultz."

"But Kommandant, he says it is about a transfer."

"A transfer?" Hogan could imagine the terrified look on Klink's face just from his tone- he was obviously worried about Burkhalter transferring him. "Show him in, show him in."

"Yes, Herr Kommandant." Opening the door, Helga said, "Corporal?"

Olsen walked in and came to attention in front of Klink's desk. "Corporal Stewart Unternase, reporting for duty."

Back in the barracks, Jack choked.

"Of all the..." growled Hogan, "How many times have I told them not to overdo it? Even Klink's not a _complete _idiot."

Jack coughed again as Klink's voice prattled on over the coffepot. "Are you sure? Sounds to me like your man got away with it."

Hogan's eyes narrowed. "Maybe so, but I'm going to go have a word with a couple of my forgers, because putting something like that on paper is just asking for trouble. Even if Klink doesn't notice it, someone else might. All that paperwork has to go somewhere."

**Author's Notes:**

So, this chapter was originally going to be longer... I wanted to give Olsen a chance to have some fun with Klink... but he's not going to be as bold (or reckless) in challenging Klink as Hogan is. But one smart-ass remark- after all Hogan's gotten away with?- well, he just couldn't resist.

And for those of you who might not have understood: the name he chose- Unternase- means "under (the) nose". As in, Klink wouldn't recognize Hogan's operations if there was proof of it right under his nose.


	16. Planting a Garden

AN: Hello, everyone,

Sorry it's taken me so long to get back to this... I hope that posting two chapters at once will at least partially make up for that. I'd also like to thank everyone who's dropped me a note encouraging me to keep going with this, as well as my wonderful reviewers, including, but not limited to: Wonderland-fae, Haiza Tyri, KaeKaeD, Medinoc, Shinkicker, Saissa, Welamooktook, DixieDamsel, Girl-of-Action, Janna Kalderash, SanctuaryWilliam101, Sprit Seer, Maloanne, Teri, Snooky-9093, Patty1965, SG1-Star, Razzbaby, Susan M.M, Dragea, James, Study in Silence, Beth, El Gringo Loco, Kellyh59...

Anyways, happy reading. I'll try to get some more written soon.

Sparra

_**Chapter Sixteen: Planting a Garden**_

_two days later, in Klink's office..._

"Kommandant," sighed Hogan, kicking his feet up onto Klink's desk. "I really don't know why you're being so unreasonable about all this. All we want to do is plant a kitchen garden. I'd think that with all the food shortages we've been having this last year, you'd be grateful to us for offering to plant and weed and take care of this garden."

"Maybe I would," said Klink cynically, "if I thought you were actually interested in planting a garden and not just using the camp shovels to dig an escape tunnel."

"Kommandant, I'm appalled. You know my men are trustworthy! You got all the shovels back after we planted the flowers around the barracks, didn't you?"

"Yes," replied Klink grudgingly.

"And we didn't dig one tunnel with them," Hogan continued.

"That's true," affirmed the German.

Back in the barracks, where eight people were crowded around the coffeepot listening, LeBeau sniggered. "No, not one. Maybe eight or ten, but not one..."

_back in Klink's office..._

"So why are you convinced that this time will be any different, Colonel Klink?"

Klink stood and walked over to the window. "Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you want to dig _right next_ to the fence this time."

"But kommandant, that's the sunniest spot! And vegetables need a lot of sunlight to grow. What do you expect us to do, plant the garden right in the middle of the exercise yard?"

"Why not? It would be better than right next to the fence!"

"Really, Kommandant?" mused Hogan. "I'm glad you think so! I'll be sure to tell the men you've called off all future roll calls!"

"Roll calls! Hogan, I did no such thing!" Klink waved his arms. "I have no intention of calling off all the roll calls!"

"Well you can't expect us to trample the plants in our garden by assembling on top of them! And if we put them closer to your office, they'll get driven over by all of your trucks and staff cars!

Klink slumped into his seat. "Very well, you may plant your garden by the fence. But my guards will be watching you every minute! And the first time we catch you trying to tunnel under the fence, this project will be called off! Understood?"

"Perfectly, Kommandant." Hogan stood. "And thank you for your generosity. You'll get us some plants- tomatoes, peppers, carrots, onions and the like?"

"Yes, yes, very well, Hogan." Klink waved a hand disinterestedly, already looking at his paperwork again.

"When might we expect those, sir?"

"I don't know! You'll get them when I get them! Now get out of my office! Can't you see I have work to do?"

"Okay, Kommandant. No need to get touchy," Hogan huffed. "I'll be outside enjoying this nice day. Maybe you should, too!" And with that parting shot, Hogan gave a salute that was really more of a wave and left the Kommandant's office, leaving Klink sitting there, rubbing his forehead and muttering.

"I'll be outside, enjoying the nice day. So should you. Well, I'd like to! But this paperwork isn't going to do itself. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. Why Berlin needs three copies of everything, I'll never know..."

_later that morning, back in the barracks..._

"So, are we all ready to go on this end? Carter, Newkirk, LeBeau, how'd the pottery turn out?"

"Well, sir, per'aps we ought to consult the expert," said Newkirk, placing a medium-sized pot on the table and looking at Daniel, who picked it up and turned it around, tracing the black design with his fingertips.

"Not bad, not bad at all. You might even be able to fool somebody with this, as long as they don't try to carbon-date it."

"What's that?"

"Carbon dating? Well, it's a process of measuring the decay of the carbon isotopes..."

"Daniel." Jack interrupted. "Is this explanation entirely necessary?"

"to determine something's age," concluded Daniel. "You really did a good job with this."

"Aw shucks, we didn't do nothing but copy those pictures you drew for us," Carter said, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"So the pots are a go... how many of them do we have?" Hogan asked.

"Well, that's the first one done, mon colonel, but there are several others drying as we speak."

"And we have several more getting fired that we can bury tonight," added Newkirk.

"If the Krauts do not post a guard," growled LeBeau.

"And clothes? How are we doing on get-ups for our visitors?" Hogan inquired.

"All done but the final fittin's, Guv'nor. We'll 'ave ourselves a right old dusty group of academics, if'n I do say so myself. With laborer's clothes for Teal'c, as requested."

"What about a car or something? It's going to look pretty unusual if we just come strolling in the gate in the morning." Jack pointed out.

"No problem, sir." Kinch affirmed. "The underground will be leaving us a vehicle to borrow this evening." He chuckled. "And believe it or not, that was actually harder to arrange than it would have been to get a staff car. But a staff car is hardly inconspicuous."

"Then we're all set? Everybody know their parts?" Hogan looked around the table, grinning when he saw Jack doing the same thing. "Now we just have to wait for Klink. I hope he doesn't take too long to get us those plants."

"Actually, sir, we could probably start now..."

"What's that, Carter?" asked Hogan.

"'E's balmy. If we start diggin' now, Klink'll think we're tryin' to tunnel and shut down the whole thing."

"Well, we could just tell him we needed to turn over the soil before planting..."

_that afternoon..._

"Hogannnnn! What is the meaning of this?" Klink yelled as he strutted across the compound from the kommandantur to the area by the fence where the prisoners were busy with their spades. "I told you there was to be no digging of tunnels!"

"Kommandant! We're not digging tunnels! We're just turning over the soil so that it's ready for planting when we get our vegetables!"

"Just turning over the soil?" Klink asked suspiciously.

"Absolutely! Carter, here, is a farm boy, and he says you've got to thoroughly turn the soil over before you plant!"

"Carter! What is the meaning of this? Do the two of you think I look like a complete nincompoop?"

Hogan and Carter glanced at each other. Answering that question honestly would only get them time in the cooler and spoil their plans- but it was tempting.

"Do you honestly think I believe that you were just turning over the soil so that it's ready to plant?"

"Why shouldn't you?" asked Hogan ingenuously.

"I mean, it's not like we're making something up," defended Carter. "Haven't you ever seen the farmers out discing their fields after the harvest? They've got to get the fields ready for the next year's crops. But we haven't got a disc- we haven't even got a proper plow, so we've got to do it all by hand..."

Klink's eyes began to widen as Carter continued rambling an explanation.

"And you've got to make sure that you get the dirt separated... it's not enough to just get it broken into big clods. You see, Kommandant, you want to get as much air as possible in the dirt..."

"Oh, and why is that?" Klink snapped.

_Meanwhile, across the compound..._

"You ready?" Jack asked, handing the knapsack to LeBeau through the barracks window for him to put it in his wheelbarrow.

"Oui, colonel."

"Give it another minute... we want to give him time to turn the kommandant away from our little garden. Okay, go!"

LeBeau wheeled the wheelbarrow casually across the yard to where the others were working and carefully buried the knapsack's contents in some of the freshly overturned dirt. As he turned to give Colonel Hogan the okay signal, he overheard part of the conversation between Carter and Klink and nearly choked on a laugh.

"Oh, and why is that?" Klink snapped.

"Well, plants need air to breathe, same as people, Kommandant."

"What! Hogan!" Klink shifted his focus to the senior American officer. "What sort of nonsense is this, Hogan? Plants need air to breathe?! Rubbish!"

"It's true, Kommandant!" Andrew got right in the German's face, upset that the man wasn't listening to him. "Plants need air! It's a critical component of respiration and photosynthesis! They use the carbon dioxide to produce glucose and other starches, and they use the oxygen in the process of breaking it down again. Just think about that a second, Kommandant- plants use air to make their food _and _break it down again to get energy for growing. Air is every bit as essential to plants as sunlight and warmth and water!

"Really?" Klink had thought it was just a lame excuse, _but Carter seemed so sure of himself... and he was none too bright, on the whole. Not quite as stupid as the Frenchman, who couldn't even remember his own serial number, but still..._

"You betcha, boy, uh, sir!" Carter affirmed enthusiasically.

Klink opened his mouth to ask Carter more questions, but was distracted by the sound of smashing dishes.

"Uh, Colonel," Kinch said with just the right tremulous note in his voice, "I think I found something."

"Whatcha got there, Kinch?" Hogan asked, apparently unconcerned.

"I'm not quite sure, sir." Kinch said quite believably. "I think I just broke something."

"Well, don't just stand there, you dumkopf!" yelled Klink. "Pick it up!"

Kinch bent down and gently pulled a few pieces of pottery free of the dirt.

"What is this!? Colonel Hogan, what is the meaning of this!" Klink yelled.

"Well, I'm sure I don't know, Colonel. _I_ didn't put it there, if that's what you're insinuating."

"Well, if you didn't, who did?"

"How should I know?" asked Hogan ingenuously.

"Hogan!"

"Actually, sir," said Olsen, strolling over in his guard's uniform, "that looks pretty old. Maybe it's valuable."

"Valuable? This trash? It's not even glazed!" sneered Hogan.

"I'll have you know, you stupid Amerikaner, that some of the oldest remnants of human culture have been found right here in Germany! And that includes pots that were made before glaze was even invented!" Olsen shouted at his CO, hoping he wouldn't get in trouble later for the 'stupid Amerikaner'.

"Enough!" yelled Klink, swishing his swagger stick. "Hogan, you will not demean what could turn out to be a priceless artifact. Corporal, even if Hogan is an enemy, he is an officer and you will not speak to him disrespectfully. Do I make myself clear?"

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Olsen replied.

"Now, I shall take this back to my office. Hogan, instruct your men to be more careful. If they find anything else here, we don't want them to break it. Meanwhile, I shall consider where I might find someone who knows more about this than you, Hogan," said Klink angrily.

"Herr Kommandant," Olsen said meekly, "I have a cousin who may be able to help. He is an archeologist."

Klink looked at Olsen.

"I think he is at Bilsingsleben... or maybe Federsee... he... I... I could find out, and contact him for you, " Olsen stuttered, doing his best to imitate Langensheit's somewhat intimidated but helpful manner around officers.

"Excellent, Corporal. You may use the phone in my outer office."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Olsen replied. "Thank you, Herr Kommandant." Then he turned and smirked at Hogan.

Hogan took the opportunity to growl at him again to quit overplaying his part.


	17. Sand

_**Chapter 17:**_ _**Sand**_

Newkirk stepped outside for a smoke and stopped. The older man was frozen, staring at the barbed wire, the gates, the guards. Every one of his muscles was as tense as a mine trip wire, and the look on his face was all adamant stoicism... except for his eyes, where the Brit saw a hint of terror. The American had tried to hide it, but it was still there, lurking in the corners.

It was a look he hadn't seen in years. Hadn't seen since one of his circus friends, who apparently had a more-criminal-than-he'd-realized past, was tracked down by the bobbies and they'd come for him. Alec had tried to put on a brave front, but Newkirk had seen it in his eyes: He was trapped. He was helpless. He would die in prison. And then Alec's eyes had shuttered over in a defiant act, much as the colonel's were shuttered now... but the apprehension was still visible if you knew to look for it.

It was the same trapped look, that spoke of helplessness in one to whom helplessness was anathema, that drove Newkirk to speak. "Sir?"

For all the response he got, it was as if he hadn't spoken. "Sir? O'Neill?" he whispered, trying the name he'd heard Sam use, "Are you alright?"

Again, there was no response to Newkirk's query, but as Mueller walked around the corner and passed them, Newkirk caught the quickly-stifled shudder-that-wasn't and heard a guttural mumble. In no language he'd ever heard before.

"Sir? Perhaps we should go inside?" Newkirk asked, tentatively placing a hand on the man's arm. The lack of response to his words and touch made Newkirk decide to get help. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene in the yard, especially with one of their _visitors_- but O'Neill was bound to get noticed by someone else if this continued. Especially with roll call not far off.

He slipped back inside and checked the room. Not seeing any of the other team there, he slapped the bunk twice and climbed down the ladder. Kinch was at the radio station, but Daniel was there as well, and unless his cursory glance was mistaken, Kinch was teaching the man Morse Code.

But Newkirk didn't have time for that. He simply told Daniel that he was needed, right now. Newkirk sighed a bit in relief when the man followed without asking questions. He really didn't want to have to explain why he needed the man's help.

As he followed Daniel out of the barracks, Newkirk saw that the other colonel was still standing there, frozen. He heard Daniel's breath chuff as he took in the scene, but noticed that the other man didn't seem shocked by the turn of events. Newkirk's brow furrowed when the other man stooped and scooped up a handful of mud off of the ground. _What's the bloody Yank going to do with that?_ he wondered.

He didn't have to wonder long. Daniel went over to his commanding officer and...

... slapped the mud right in his face. It apparently startled O'Neill out of his trance, because he turned an angry countenance on the younger man. Who simply said, as if he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary, "There's no sand here, Jack."

And then he walked away, leaving Newkirk mentally gaping as his eyes darted back and forth between the two. _What the bloody hell was that?_

O'Neill walked back into the hut, and Newkirk heard the splash of the tap as he presumably cleaned up.

Hours later, as he was dealing another game of solitaire when Daniel came up from the tunnels with a book in his hands. Tired of brooding over the incident earlier without being able to figure it out- without being able to come up with even a guess, really- he asked Daniel to come over and join him.

"What's on your mind?"

"Earlier. The mud-" Newkirk said, before he could change his mind about asking this and doom himself to being eaten alive by his curiosity. "Why? And what did you mean about the sand?"

Daniel smiled. "Just helping a friend. And there isn't any sand here. At least, none that I've seen."

"Just helping a friend?"

"Yeah, if I'd have told him there wasn't any sand here first, he wouldn't have even heard me. Had to drag him back to the present first." Daniel gave him a shrewd look.

Newkirk considered this. "Where was he?"

"Someplace sandy."

Newkirk sucked in a breath in exasperation. "You're not going to tell me, are you? And I'm just going to be left wondering what could put _that_ look in his eyes, and what that was he said to me- and not to me."

"Not my story to tell," Daniel replied. "And you probably wouldn't want to know what he said to you."

"How would you know? You weren't even there," Newkirk said. Then it hit: "This wasn't the first time he's gone 'somewhere sandy', is it?"

"Nope."

And that was the end of it, Newkirk knew. He could try to get Daniel to talk more, but the man would not spill any secrets. Especially secrets that weren't his to share. So he picked the deck back up, finished dealing, and went back to solitaire, choosing to ignore the way that the man on the other side of the table seemed to be going somewhere else mentally.

_{flashback}_

It hadn't actually been that long ago that it happened. When they had returned to P4X-639 for some follow-up studies after the events of the time loop, Jack had frozen. He'd been walking a patrol while Daniel and Sam had done tests on the altar. Daniel had tried to radio him, but had gotten no answer, so he'd gone looking and found Jack staring out into the desert.

You won't keep me here forever growled Jack in Arabic. I'll find a damn way out. You won't break me, damn you!

"Jack? Jack, are you okay?" Daniel had punched his teammate on the arm, but his CO didn't even seem to notice. He continued to curse and snarl in Arabic as if Daniel wasn't even there.

After a few more minutes of trying to get his attention, Daniel upended his canteen over the Colonel's head and slapped him across the face, hard. "Dammit, Jack, wake up! You're not- wherever you were just remembering- anymore, buddy."

Jack had shivered, and then looked at him. "Daniel?"

"Jeez, Jack, don't scare me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like what?! Jack, you looked like you were splitting the difference between a statue and a panic attack! What the hell happened?"

"It's nothing." Jack's tone of voice told Daniel that the subject was closed. But as usual, Daniel disregarded that.

"No, Jack. It's not. Tell me! What just happened? Where did you go?"

"Nowhere. The desert." Jack's voice, though a whisper, sounded harsh.

"Alright, Jack. If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay. But if you ever want to- I'll listen."

They had walked towards the altar in silence for a few minutes before Jack spoke. "It reminds me of Iraq, okay? Every time we get stuck in one of these damn deserts, I see the damn sand and it makes me think of Iraq. And they're some of my shittiest memories. Jumping in for a mission and having my damn chute not open, and then crawling out with seven broken bones, including a skull fracture. And the mission that Cromwell abandoned me on- that one led to more than six damn months of torture in an Iraqi prison. Sometimes, I swear, all I have to do is look at the damn sand and I start to ache. I feel hot, but is it because my damn brain has chosen to remind me of the three-day stints in a sweatbox, or because of the actual temperature? I look around, and all I can see is the damn sand, the sand in the compound, the sand beyond the barbed wire that's mined, even though the distance to the nearest water is enough to ensure no one will make out alive on foot. Even when there's no wire, no mines, I still feel trapped by the damn sand."

He met Daniel's eyes. "That's why I really hate sand. Not because it's hot, not because it's hard to walk in, not even because it gets everywhere, although that can be damn annoying, too. But I could put up with all of that if it didn't always send me back to that prison in Iraq. To that feeling of being trapped, confined, vulnerable.

"And here, it's worse, because here's where I got trapped in that damn time loop for months."

Daniel had silently digested this for a few moments before replying. "Thanks for telling me, Jack."

_{end flashback}_

_It's not that big a deal, _decided Daniel. _So Jack had a little flashback. He'll be okay._

_But maybe I should go check on him. Just in case._


	18. Midnight Decisions

_Author's Note:_

_Hello everyone, and sorry for the confusion, but when I posted the most recent chapters, I accidently forgot to post one of the chapters I had finished. And it belongs BEFORE the last one posted, so I went back and put it in order. This, however, means that those of you on alert may be confused, since ffn will be trying to tell you that _**Midnight Decisions**_ is new, when it's really _**Sand **_that you should go read. Sorry for the confusion. This is what happens when I skip ahead, take months off, and then fail to assign a number to a chapter._

_**Chapter 18: Midnight Decisions**_

"Sir?" Sam's voice floated across the darkened room to where her CO was trying to sleep. "Are you still awake?"

"Would it make a difference?"

"Well... it's just that I've been thinking, sir."

"About what, Carter?" Jack's tone was annoyed. _I wish she'd just say what she needs to say and let me get back to trying to sleep. Even though I wasn't having much luck with that._

"I think we're going to have to tell them, sir."

"Tell who what, Carter?"

"Tell Hogan and his men... that we're from the future. Sir."

"What!?"

"I thought that was something we absolutely couldn't do..." Daniel's sleepy voice interjected, "Too dangerous. Mess up the timeline. Maybe kill you."

"Yeah," agreed Jack soulfully. "It's way too dangerous."

"But you said that Hogan recognized you at the academy, sir. There's no way that would have happened if he didn't know somehow. And it might be better to plan out how we tell him than to accidentally let it slip..."

Jack harrumphed, but conceded, "Yeah, you might be right about that."

"Besides, I've been thinking, and I don't think it's a ring device that will take us home after all, sir."

"What? You mean there's some other 'moonbeam' we've got to arrange?"

"Yes- and no, sir. I think we need to get one of Hogan's men to take a message to Hammond, to tell him when we are so that he can arrange our rescue. And we can hardly ask them to go halfway around the world and deliver a message about our whereabouts without explaining why it's so critical..."

"Oy vey."

"Sam? Why don't you think it's a ring device anymore?"

"Well, Daniel, I was thinking about who could possibly come and ring us out. We don't have any Goa'uld ships at the moment- we seem to destroy those almost as soon as we get them- and even if we did, we can't calculate the solar flares in time to send ourselves back. So it can't be our own people. And it can't be the Tok'ra either, because even though they've got the ships, they don't have the time travel capabilities."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"Well, they only have the technology that the Goa'uld have, sir. And can you imagine the Goa'uld having the technology to travel through time and _not_ using it to try and take over the world, or going back in time to the rebellion against Ra to stop it from ever happening?"

Jack sighed. "So it's not us or the Tok'ra. The Tollans?"

"No ships fast enough to get here in time. And I kind of doubt they have the time travel technology; otherwise they would have used it to go back in time and save their sister planet; stop themselves from giving them that generator."

"Makes sense," Daniel said.

"The Nox?"

"I'm pretty sure they don't have the ships, Sir. But, I was thinking, we know of another race that has beaming technology- even beaming technology that might be described as a moonbeam-"

"Thor." Jack grinned in the darkness. "I should have known; he always has great timing."

"Yes, sir, but he would need to know when to come get us, if indeed the Asgaard are responsible for our rescue. Which is why we need to send the message..."

"I believe Major Carter is correct, O'Neill."

"So when do you think we should sent it to them, Sam?" Daniel queried. "We don't want to send it to the day we left, do we?"

"No, I think it'd be better if we give General Hammond a few days to figure out what's happened to us. That'll probably also make it easier for our messenger to get on base; Hammond will be more likely to listen to an outlandish story from an old man if he has already come to the conclusion that we're trapped in the past on his own," Jack stated.

"But sir, how can we know how much time to give him?"

"Well, I figure we should at least give him enough time that we miss our first check-in."

"And then some time to figure it out, Jack," Daniel piped in.

"So," Sam said, "We're gonna ask them to go to the base three or four days after we left? What date will that be?"

"Um, what date was it when we left?" Daniel asked.

"You don't remember?" snarked Jack.

"Well, do you?"

"It was Monday." Jack replied.

"Oh, it was Monday. That'll be really helpful information to someone in this time period." Daniel affected a British accent and added, "Here now, old chap, just march yourself up to the top secret facility on a Monday in August of 2000 and tell the Commanding Officer that his men are trapped 55 years in the past, would you? That's a chum." He snorted. "Oh yeah, that'll work."

"I believe I can be of assistance. We departed on our mission at approximately 4:30 pm on Monday, August 21, 2000. I believe I would recommend having our messenger arrive on Friday the 25th."

"Attaboy, Teal'c! Way to use the old brainbox there!"

"So who do we want as our messenger, Colonel? Because it might be better to leave my granddad out of it, just to keep the timeline as pure as possible. And because he'll die in '85, so there won't be any chance of him telling the general what happened to us."

"Well, Rob can't be our messenger, because he'll be dead then, too."

Lines developed between Daniel's eyebrows. "But I thought we just decided we'd told him? Or would tell him..."

"O'Neill. If I may make a suggestion, you should tell all of them."

The other three all turned to look at Teal'c as Daniel said what was on all of their minds. "We want to tell as few people as possible, to prevent anything bad from happening to the timeline."

"We know that Hogan will find out; therefore it is advisable to tell him yourself. We know that Andrew Carter will leave clues for Major Carter in the stories he will tell her, but given the nature of their secret operation, I do not think he would tell her such stories without reason. So he should be told as well, so that he can leave more clues. But neither of them can be our messenger, so logic dictates we should choose one of the other three of Hogan's core group. But we do not know who will be alive in our present, so is it not wiser to give ourselves as many possible messengers as possible? If more than one of them briefs General Hammond, surely that will only increase their credibility."

"Okay then," Jack affirmed, seeing the others nodding in agreement. "We'll tell them all."

After a few minutes, Sam' voice broke the silence again. "Uh, sir?"

"Yes, Carter?"

"Shouldn't we tell them? Telling them down here in the tunnels at night will probably give us the least chance of being overheard."

Jack groaned.

"Does it have to be _now_?" whined Daniel. " I bet they're all asleep already, and it's not like there's a rush. After all, they're going to have to wait _decades_ to tell the general after we tell them."

"Oh," Sam said. "I guess that's true. It won't make any difference how soon we tell them, will it?"

"Now can we please get some shuteye?"

"Yes sir. Goodnight, sir."

"Good _night_, Carter." Jack growled.

Daniel couldn't resist the urge. "Goodnight, Sam."

A giggle sounded across the room. "Goodnight, Daniel."

"Goodnight, Jack."

"For crying out loud, will you kids shut up and go to sleep?"


	19. Plots

Dear loyal and faithful readers,

I apologize for the long gaps between postings. Please keep getting on my case about writing; it seems that if I check the reviews and PMs and see how many people are still waiting to find out what happens next (in their unending patience), I am more motivated to write. I shall try to post again soon...

In the mean time, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

_**Chapter 19: Plots**_

"Oh, Kommandant!" Hogan said loudly as he barged in Klink's office the next morning. "So glad I caught you in your office, sir. I wanted to talk to you about our garden."

"Hogan! Do you ever knock?"

"Well, sir, I didn't think I needed to. Don't you have an open door policy?"

"It certainly seems that way!" Klink harrumphed as he looked down at his paperwork again. "Now what's this about your garden?"

Hogan hooked his thumbs in his bomber jacket. "The boys and I were thinking maybe we could put it by the delousing station, now. Since you won't let us have our original plot."

"Plot! Ha! I knew it! I knew you were planning something!" Klink exclaimed, standing and shaking his finger at Hogan.

"Yes, we were! We were planning two rows of peas, three rows of tomatoes, two rows of carrots, three rows of onions, two rows of cucumbers, and two rows of peppers. And four rows of corn, if you could get us the seeds."

"Hogan, you cannot fool me. You said 'plot' and you meant it. I know you did."

"Yes, Kommandant, I did say plot! As in 'piece of ground'! We had our hearts set on that one nice, sunny, little piece of land. That one little piece of land that you said we could have, and then stole back from us as soon as we did the hard work of turning over the soil!"

"Hogan, surely even you must see why I had to stop your men from gardening in that spot? Those archeological finds must be protected until they can be properly examined by an expert."

Hogan crossed his arms and glared. "Our little garden is ruined... all because of a few broken pots."

"Come now, Hogan, I am not unreasonable. You and your men may still have your garden. You'll just have to put it somewhere else."

"Well, Carter says the next best place would be right next to the cooler."

"The cooler! You said the delousing station."

"Well, next to the cooler's really the better spot, but we didn't think you'd let us have it there. The yard next to the delousing station's about the only place left that's big enough."

"Very well, you may put it next to the delousing station. Now would you mind getting out of my office so that I can get some work done?"

"Of course, Kommandant," Hogan replied, turning. Before he could leave, though, Langensheit burst through the door.

"Herr Kommandant! The archeologists are here!"

"Well, what are you waiting for? Show them in!"

"Yes, Herr Kommandant! Right away, Herr Kommandant!" Only a few seconds later, Langensheit was opening the door and ushering the three "archeologists" in, complete with introductions. "Here they are, Herr Kommandant: Daniel Vogel, Yonathan Fuchs, and Samantha Adler."

"Hello, and welcome to Stalag 13," Klink said brightly, standing up. "It is our very great pleasure to..." His voice trailed off when Jack neglected to shake his hand, instead picking up the pot from the desk with the utmost care and examining it.

The move was so unlike Jack's normal flippant treatment of 'rocks' that Daniel gawped at him for a moment. After a moment, he managed to cover by saying, "That looks like a very fine piece, Kommandant. An excellent example of the Bell-Beaker culture."

"So it's valuable?"

"Is it valuable?" How Jack managed to turn red so quickly, Hogan wasn't sure, but it was a very fine imitation of an apoplectic fit that he put on as he railed at the Kommandant. "Why, my dear Kommandant, examples of this type of pottery are very important to the scientific community! Their worth cannot be measured in mere monetary value, and even in that, they are not lacking! And it looks as though you may even have all of the fragments! Remarkable!" Jack nearly shouted.

"Remarkable!" Klink parroted.

"We can learn so much from even one little piece of pottery..." Jack muttered, rubbing his fingers across the excised pattern.

"Really?" Klink asked.

"Yes, you see, if we just take this piece here and put it with the one that Professor Fuchs is holding," Daniel lectured, while suiting actions to words and carefully lifting another fragment from the desk to place it against the one Jack held like the pieces of a puzzle, "You can see how they go together. And after the pot has been reassembled, we can properly analyze the decorations and symbols on the exterior. By careful study and comparison with other pieces, we can even determine how old it is and where it came from. Knowing exactly where it came from can help us to determine ancient trading and migration patterns." Daniel gazed at the pot for a moment as if it was the most precious thing in the world, then turned back towards Klink to look at him sternly over the top of his glasses. "And even things that seem insignificant to you may prove to be important clues to us. That is why no one else may be allowed near the site where these important artifacts were found! Why, if there were remains of seeds within this container, your men may have carelessly dumped them out, which causes us to lose a valuable clue to the diet of the population who used this pot!"

"Seeds! Where?" Hogan interrupted Daniel, lifting the piece of pot right out of his hands. Turning to Klink, he continued, "Now Kommandant, that's just not fair! You said we could have the seeds for our garden! If you're going to give our seeds to these garden-stealing archeologists, I'm going to have to lodge a formal complaint!"

"Who is this man?" Jack inquired. Hogan and Klink both turned to stare at him momentarily, shocked at the sound of that question... in an offhand tone that suggested Hogan was beneath his notice no matter who he was.

"What? Oh, um, this is..." Klink began, only to be interrupted by Hogan extending his hand and saying, "Colonel Robert Hogan, Senior Prisoner of War Officer."

Jack immediately grabbed the pottery fragment back from Hogan, grumbling, "And you allow one of those Amerikaner savages to touch these precious artifacts? He would probably break them in a fit of jealous rage that his own wretched country has no treasures such as this to offer the world."

Hogan was slightly shocked by this turn of events; he hadn't expected this and he wasn't quite sure what to make of the fact that Daniel and Jack were acting so differently from their normal selves: Jack acting all academic and condescending, and Daniel ignoring him. _But then again, you should have guessed that would happen. No one's themself when pretending to be a Nazi; just look at Carter when he's pretending to be a general, or even old Crazy Eyes himself... he couldn't possibly be more different from his normal personality._

Hogan came back to himself as he heard Klink coming to his defense. "Now really, Professor. Hogan may be the enemy, but it was his men who found the artifact in the first place. He is an officer and a gentleman, and I am sure that he will give all of the archeological finds the proper respect."

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. "You are sure of this? The site must remain uncontaminated!"

"Well..." Klink mumbled.

"Yes, he's sure!" Hogan said. "And if he's not, I am. Who cares about some old pots? I'm more interested in trying to supply my men with adequate rations. You get us the seeds for our garden, Kommandant?"

"Hogan, I said that I will, and I will, but it will happen quicker if you get out of my office and let me fill out the necessary paperwork!" Klink barked at him.

"Well then, I'll just be on my way." Hogan gave half a salute as he said, "Kommandant;" half a wave to Jack and Daniel as he said, "Professors;" and a lingering glance and a kiss to the hand for Sam. "Fraulein. I do hope we meet again later."

"Hogan," growled Klink warningly as Jack and Daniel both glared daggers at his back.

When the door was shut, the Kommandant proceeded to fall all over himself to offer the archeologists anything they wanted: use of his guest quarters and a barracks to set up a workshop in; gourmet dinners; cord and stakes to mark off an area that none were to be allowed into, not even his guards; and even sending a truck into town for supplies. Of course, he didn't see who was driving the truck when it left...


End file.
